Defy the Stars
by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa
Summary: Ignis is given an Omen of the Stars. Now, armed with the knowledge of living through a world of unending night, there are choices to be made. Given the chance to change fate, Ignis will go to war with even the Gods to keep Noctis official Fix-it Fic (IgNoct, Luna/Ardyn, Luna/Nyx) (Part of the Heaven of Cut Stars verse) MASSIVE SPOILERS
1. Chapter 1

Defy the Stars

 **By** : Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-

 **Author Notes** : I wasn't the only person whose heart was shattered into a thousand pieces at the ending of FFXV. I had already started this series, having a feeling that I would need to write stories in the FFXV world, and IgNoct grabbed my heart. However, I realized that when I finished my game that this series had literally the perfect entry into this story. Please read "Sacramentum" before reading this, and I would also recommend the first chapter of "A King's Wizard."

 **Warnings** : **SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS,** Violence, Blood, Gore, Sex, Language, Death, etc. Consider this my "Not nice things" buffer.

* * *

Ignis could not see, but he could _feel_.

He could feel Noctis's face against his palm, the scratch of his beard that had grown in his time sleeping. Oh, Ignis could imagine what Noctis would look like; a younger, more handsome version of King Regis, no doubt, but with bluer eyes than the sky. Noctis, the smattering of freckles against his pale nose, a few lines touching at his eyes. Regal as a king, sitting upon his throne.

He felt the lips, chapped like they always were. How many nights had Ignis felt those lips against his, against his skin, against even his soul? He always wanted to put some balm on those lips, and would deny it to Noctis when he would ask that yes, he did like the roughness. Even when Noctis still held baby-fat still in his cheeks, Ignis had loved the feel of the smooth skin and his rough lips. Such juxtaposition.

Eyelashes. Why did Noctis have such long lashes? He knew that Noctis hated them; he said they were girlish more times that Ignis could count. But Ignis would lay in bed with Noctis's face pressed against his chest and each flutter would tell him a story.

His hair was longer, now. It was dirty and gritty, and Ignis could see it—falling limply over his eyes. Even when they were dirty, rolling around in the mud, Ignis could remember that errant little hair that always stuck up in the back. How many nights had Ignis tried to smooth it down to no avail?

 _God_.

Noctis's dimples when he smiled. The way he would so rarely do, but Ignis knew each of them just as much as he knew the plains of Noctis's cheeks and the slope of his neck.

No pulse.

Noctis.

Ignis _knew_ , he could smell it like hopelessness and despair.

He knew every sound Noctis made. He knew each hair. He knew the smell of Noctis's skin.

He did not need to see, nor feel, nor touch, nor smell to know.

Noctis could have been sleeping, so peacefully and gently—like their last day in the Citadel, where his Noct laid crumpled in bed sheets, morning bed hair and a stubble against his cheek. Ignis had that image burned into memory. Not even blindness could take it from him.

Ignis ran his hands down until it his cold metal, and he _knew_ this sword. He had seen the sword a thousand times as a small child, then even more as a young man and then, with his blindness, learned to recognize the sound of it as it whirred through the air.

He did not bother to grab the pommel, instead reaching both hands around the blade and pulling. Ignis knew his hands, knew the false skin that had grown back now more times that he could imagine, yet he could still remember the first time.

The car.

Noctis.

The engagement.

Ignis could only laugh, tight and wet and hot like bile on the back of his tongue, as he pulled and pulled until he heard the blade pull through metal, bone, and flesh. He had to choke back as he felt the warmth of blood against his fingers, and he knew it wasn't _just_ his.

He would have moved the heavens and Eos itself to have it just be his.

And yet, he could see like he was no longer blind, how Noctis's body came loose from the chair and pulled forward as the sword, his father's sword, his inheritance of the city of bone and death, came out with a sickening screech.

Ignis could not hold it.

It wasn't the pain, for he had been dealt his hand of cards and knew _pain_. Waking with no sight, listening to Noctis scream, feeling the weight of a prophecy bear down on his shoulders. He knew the feeling of poison in his veins, of blood curdling in his stomach. The feeling of bones smashing under his skin. Organs liquefying.

He felt pain.

But this was...

This was _absence_.

This was the cold hand of ten years yet without hope. This was a body without air, a body without a soul. This was fate, foretold and written in the stars without his acceptance, without his agreement.

Curse the stars.

This was Noctis's blood on his hands, staining the floor red. He could see, God he could _see_ it. Droplets of stark red against his cheeks. Those cheeks, once so warm and full of life, the slight hint of pink hidden away like a secret. He could see the blood on the diamond patterns and the red velvet that had been so entrancing as a young man.

He once wondered what Noctis would look like upon his throne.

This was not what he thought it would be like.

Ignis felt his legs give way, and he could not stand. Not even as he felt the sun against his face for the first time in ten years. He wanted to see the sun, had wanted it for so long...

Yet Noctis was not with him, holding his hand as he felt the sun rise.

No, Noctis was peacefully _asleep_ on his throne.

Ignis reached up and felt the man's shirt, knowing it as the ceremonial garb he was presented with before they left for the wedding.

It was supposed to be what they wore at the wedding. Even a sham wedding for peace, Ignis remembered the curve of the black fabric against Noctis's body, the way it seemed to swallow Noctis whole, into a black abyss.

He looked handsome, so regal in his mind's eye.

Ignis laid his head against Noctis's lap, letting out a sound that crossed between snarl and scream, like a wild animal ripping off its own leg. He lurched forward as he felt Noctis's cheek fall to rest against his skull.

And he screamed, screamed until his voice was raw and he could taste the blood on his tongue and he could no longer deny the sun, the treacherous sun, against his his face.

Warmth and coldness.

Ignis allowed his hands to rest against Noctis's skin as he slowly reached up to cup the unresponsive face of the one he loved, the one he promised to live for. He had promised to live, had sworn an oath to his king.

He had sworn to protect Noctis, to never allow this to happen. He had promised.

He had **failed**.

Ignis let his hands slide through Noctis's hair, and he leaned forward to press a clumsy kiss against his dry, cold lips.

He pulled Noctis onto the floor, cradling his head against his chest as Ignis laid in their blood, the sword right next to him. His body was numb, and all Ignis could think of was the feeling of Noctis's weight against him. Years ago, before he had the strength to understand and comprehend his emotions, Ignis learned to hide his feelings within himself, in the little box of his secret desires and yearnings. He wished he still could reach into that empty abyss of nothing to hide himself like a boy running from the darkness.

Noctis taught him that feeling was wrong, that he could not hide himself. Noctis taught him how to live.

Their last night in camp... the meal he had cooked, Noct's favorite. The kiss that left both of them trembling. The feeling of their bodies against one another, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together, clicking into place.

He could only reach out with his hand to fumble for it.

Noctis weeping into his chest as the never-ending night continued on and on.

Ignis held the sword in his hand and pressed the blade to his throat. He knew how to cut it open for the quickest death, having hunted with Gladio so many times during that year where the light began to dwindle unknowingly. The sword was so sharp he wouldn't even have to pull hard, just a light yank, and then he could be with Noctis again.

"Ignis... would you live for him?"

Ignis choked back a sob as the words ran through his head. The King, his words. They had haunted him for those long ten years of silence, and yes... Ignis had lived for him. He lived when all hope was gone, when the entire world fell to hell, when the heavens itself snuffed out the light.

All hope was lost, the daemons ran free, and Ignis soldiered on. He fought, fought until he could do so without his sight, until he knew that when Noctis came back he would be able to stand by him, stand and do what was needed.

He had lived for Noctis, waited for 3,784 days of unending night for him.

And he _failed_ him.

"Noctis, please forgive me."

There was no reply, and Ignis felt the blade against his throat.

"Ignis, would you live for him?"

"I... I don't know what you mean."

The never-ending night, the loneliness, the despair, the loss of his entire being.

He had given everything, and had lost everything.

Noctis's blood against his hands, his blade against his throat, the memory of his smiling face and his lips on Ignis's.

Noctis was to sit upon the throne and describe the sunrise to him. It was his last promise, his vow that last night of unending night. Those tender moments where Ignis could pretend, just for a moment, that it was the truth and that he did not know Noctis as the man he was. Noctis, the man who had grown from an angry, sullen boy into a king.

And in front of his destroyed throne of skull and bone and blood in this hall that reeked of death and lies, he could hear his promise repeated back.

Protect Noct. Continuance of the bloodline. A future worth protecting.

Here was his promise, and here was the blood on his hands, the ribbons of flesh showing what his promise was worth.

 **Nothing**.

Ignis could only bring more death into a room already tainted with it.

A future—what future was there? The others would live on, the story of the boy king pinned to his throne like a butterfly would be spread far and wide, and what was left for Ignis?

His world was destined for unending night.

He would never see the sun again.

"Ignis, please... Put the sword down."

Gladio.

"Noct.. he wouldn't want you to do this..."

Prompto.

"Ignis, would you live for him?"

King Regis.

"Iggy… please say something."

A flash of a smile and dark hair, mischievous blue eyes dancing in the sliver of light.

Ignis pushed the sword away from his throat, letting it drop with a clatter near his head, and instead wrapped his arms around Noctis, pulling his body closer. He could remember the way Noctis would starfish to him, surrounded by their blankets in the cold Lucian winters. He would have done anything to go back to that moment, the hours before this nightmare began, to be able to hold Noctis in his arms.

The stars. Noctis was given to the stars.

How could their lives be chosen upon by fate? Who was Etro, who was she, to promise life in return for death? Who were the gods to demand payment in his innocent blood to break the prophecy of kings of yonder?

How dare the stars take him.

How _**dare**_ they.

"Then I... I defy you, stars." Ignis could not hold back his scream of rage as he shook Noctis's corpse—his corpse.

His _corpse_.

"I... I defy you. I... I... def—"

He choked down another sob and when something touched his back he swung out and smashed his hand against it, hearing the high-pitched keen of something that wasn't human.

"Umbra!"

But Ignis couldn't care about a dead girl's beast, for Noctis was gone and with him the light.

Ignis lay there on the floor, the blood drying on his body, and he found himself pulling Noctis up until he could rest his forehead against Noctis's, like he had as they were children. Someone, Ignis was sure it was Prompto, kept talking but Ignis could not hear it. All he could do was touch each inch of skin on Noctis's face, memorizing each detail, etching out a sketch of Noctis with his fingertips. Unsure, scared, nervous Noctis. Imperfect and flawed, but never one to give up without a fight. A king.

 _His_ king.

"Noctis, do you remember the beach? When we were children? I taught you the stars, and you taught me of your hopes and dreams. We laid in the sand and I... we watched the constellations and the nebulas. I wished upon a shooting star. I fell in love with you. So foolish... Noctis, please wake up. The sun has risen. It's dawn."

But Noctis did not stir.

"Iggy, Iggy, please. I need to fix your hands. You're going blue..."

But Ignis did not let go.

"Ignis, would you live for him?"

"What kind of question is that? I failed him... I can't. I can't go on without him."

The stars were cruel, and he was their slave.

Just as Noctis was, just as Noctis _always_ was.

"You raised him as a pig for slaughter. I protected him, I stood by his side, I never let go. I believed in hope, I believed in him. And this entire time... you watched him grow and you _knew_."

Betrayal. A king to his son, a sword through the spine.

"You made him into a martyr, you nailed him to his throne." Ignis spit his next words. "You made me promise to protect him... for naught. All for **naught**."

What was the point? Why give him the illusion of a future where there could be something like happiness when the gods would snatch it away?

"Please... please... Noctis, wake up." Ignis's voice was barely even a whisper, as he nuzzled his nose into Noctis's hair, smelling the singed hair and... it was gone.

Despite falling into the eternal sleep's clutches, despite the blood, the cloying sweetness of death was gone. The smell that clung to Noctis since he was a child, marked by the stars as their chosen sacrifice, was absent.

"Noctis... my Noct..."

His energy was spent and he could no longer fight against the feeling of something pulling him down into the vast, empty abyss. Something was at his back, gently nudging him.

The bloody dog would not let him die in peace.

He wanted to turn, but found he could not. Perhaps it was the wounds from the battles against the daemons. Perhaps it was death, coming to take him away without needing his own hand to do it.

He could be with Noctis, then.

"How heavy your crown has been, my king. I would have helped you carry the burden..."

"Ignis, would you live for him?"

"I did."

Had he not proved himself, over and over? Why was King Regis mocking him, how dare the man claim to be good, all the while he played to another master...

The stars could wither and **die**.

"Then Umbra, you know what must be done."

Ignis's head was fuzzy and the pulling at his back was becoming more and more pronounced, and there was something happening, like a fizzle of magic when Noctis's spell would get too close. He knew that this was when he was to move, to dance with Noctis as the man swung his sword. So in sync, ready to anything the world threw at them.

They were young and foolish, so stupidly in love and in pain that the entire world could have fallen around their ears. And it had...

The search for the Astrals, Noctis's ancestors and their Armigers, their countless nights under the stars, promising that life would continue on. Noctis, whispering of his future plans for the kingdom he would one day rule. He wanted to be loved, not feared. He wanted the people of Lucis to see him as a man willing to bend, never break.

Even after ten years of waiting, Ignis clung to that dream of a brighter tomorrow all the while knowing that one day Noctis would awaken and then they could fight back Ardyn, take back the light.

Regis and Lady Lunafreya... had they known since the beginning what would happen to Noctis? Certainly. They guided Noctis by the hand, foolishly pulling him into the darkness.

Something was hot and burning against his face and Ignis wanted to reach up to grab his eyes, but doing so would have meant letting go of Noctis. No, he wasn't ready. He couldn't do it.

But the burning intensified and it was now like Ifrit, only so much hotter. His blood, his body, his mind...

Pain.

Yet he continued to cling to his broken King, grabbing for the pieces as his body began to disintegrate between his fingers. Ignis scrambled for Noctis, reaching out into the chasm of nothingness, only feeling the brush of ash against his fingers.

Then the silence.

Noctis's body...

Noctis was gone.

Bright lights, like a fire burning, purifying.

Ignis screamed.

It was pain more lasting, more brutal, than anything Ignis had ever experienced. It was standing on a livewire with all his nerves pulled taut and thin, snapping like strings of thread.

And then, like the light from his eyes had been snuffed out as he watched Altissia drown...

He could _see_.

Ignis had spent ten years in the dark, only visited by color when he was tucked away in the furthest corner of his dreams. There, and only there, he could pretend things were normal and that the end of the world did not linger like ash around him.

Ash.

Noctis.

The colors were blurring together, too much for his eyes to take in after the never-ending darkness, yet he could see the gold embossed pattern climbing like a tree up the sides of the chair, the red velvet, the gray marble and the white outlines.

King Regis upon his throne, frowning down upon him.

And Ignis couldn't stand, because his knees were like water and his body felt like lead. His knees hit the marble with a jolt and the King's mouth pulled down into a frown.

"Then the Crystal has shown you... it has given you its warning."

But Ignis could not understand, because there was King Regis, the same way he had looked the last day Ignis had seen him, just before they had left. Regis, sitting upon the throne... the same throne Noctis had sat upon to accept his family's curse.

Ignis couldn't hold his body up to stare at the man, the mortal man, who had ended Noctis's life. He fell forward onto his hands, a mockery of a bow before a king.

"I am sorry, Ignis. Your pain, your burden... it is heavy. But the Crystal has shown you a path—an omen. I have lived through my own. Noctis... each time it is different, another path he may choose. I have prevented my own path from coming to fruition. It is now your turn, my boy... Ignis. This is now the cross you must bear."

Ignis scratched his nails against the marble and he could see it, the way his nails bent under the pressure, the white and pink of his skin, the reflection of his face in the polished stone. The distorted picture, the tears falling onto the gray stone with white trim, too big now for Noctis's foot to fit inside.

"Glaive, please leave us."

Ignis could hear the heavy doors shutter closed and he rested his head against the stone, feeling the coolness bring some kind of semblance to reality that was spinning in front of him.

"Wh—what is this?"

"The Crystal... it has imbued powers into its servants, allowing the chance to right wrongs, to change the Stars." Ignis closed his eyes, focusing on the words. After ten years of darkness, the light was too much for him to bear. "What you have seen... what you have lived... it is the path you would have followed."

"I failed him."

Regis said nothing for a moment. "Ignis, did he bring the dawn?"

Ignis let out a hoarse, strangled snarl of a laugh. "The dawn in exchange for his life."

"Then you know of the Providence... the revelation of Bahamut... the immortal Accursed."

"And you knew—you know who he is?" Ignis's head was pounding so loudly he could barely hear the King's response. He lifted his head to look at the King, at his frowning face. He could not bear to look for long, staring back down at the tops of his hands.

"A Caelum, disfigured by time and the Daemons. Yes, I know who he is, Ignis. I could see our blood in his veins the moment he entered this room. The Crystal... it remembers him well."

Ignis curled his fingers in and watched as his tendons popped under his skin. His hands felt strange.

"You knew... how long?"

"How long did I know of Noctis's fate as the King of Kings?"

Ignis did not want to hear the answer; how much of their life had been changed, warped, violated by the King and their prophecy?

"You perhaps do not remember, Ignis, but at the age of four Noctis came into contact with the Starscourge."

Ignis closed his eyes and rested his head against the marble.

Of course Ignis remembered.

The Plague of the Stars, attacking the Queen and the Crown Prince. Despite the Oracle's power, it had killed Queen Aulea in the end. She had died with a clear heart, the Daemon's magic soothed by the Oracle's prayer.

Noctis, Noctis had not stirred.

Ignis could not remember most of it clearly, as he was still quite young himself, but he did remember the panic of the Citadel and the pink light of the Crystal glowing brighter and brighter until it engulfed the building in its light.

"The Crystal cleared the Starscourge from him and he was left unharmed, or so we thought. However, it only became clear later that the Crystal… the Crystal had reached forward only because he was the King of Kings. It was always meant to be him, Ignis. There is nothing any could have done to take away his fate."

But Ignis did not care for fate, for the prophecy that was thrust upon him by the Stars. Noctis had suffered… Noctis had died.

"You killed him." Ignis tried to keep the whimper from his voice.

He knew it was unfair, knew that it had been Regis in spirit, but it did not change the fact that Regis's sword had pierced through Noctis, _his_ Noctis.

Truth be told, he wanted his words to hurt. He wanted them to stab straight through the king, to leave him breathless and in agony. The King's crown upon his head was lead, but his sword… that was steel and blood and Noctis.

The King said nothing, and Ignis did not supply anything further, finding his head warped with pain. The light was too much.

"I was to send you to Altissia—"

"No."

Ignis almost expected a knife to descend upon his throat, but it did not. He had never spoken back to the King, never whispered a word or even breath against his king.

But this man, this mortal man…

This was not his King.

Not anymore.

Ignis opened his eyes, staring at the pool of his own tears before him, like a sacrifice on the altar of the gods. He slowly pushed himself up, enough to look at Regis.

He looked old. Not in the way that he had the last time Ignis saw the man, as Noctis said his farewells… today. It was supposed to be today. Now, there seemed to be something so much older, so aged and desperate. Regis looked like a man who had lost it all, and Ignis wanted to remind him that he had been the catalyst for Noctis's ascension.

"The history books… during his sleep, I found them. If given just a little more time… I was close." Noctis believed in the prophecy, believed it would be him and only him to end the scourge, and there had been little time left. The scientists knew the parasite was multiplying at an increasing rate in the final year, before Noctis returned. The rate of those touched with the Plague had multiplied exponentially in the end. They had been fighting not only the daemons, but an invisible monster…

And confident Noctis…

Deep in Ignis's heart, he had known Noctis would not return. He had listened to Noctis's sweet words of comfort and wanted so desperately to believe them, because without those words Ignis would have taken Noctis's hand and entered the Citadel with him.

He would have sat together with Noctis as the sword came to greet them, and they could have curled against one another to meet the dawn.

"Then you believe you can alter the fate of the Stars?"

Ignis pushed himself, slowly and steadily, to his feet. He did not break eye contact with the King until he was standing on both feet. All his years of training, of kneeling before the man, it was at this moment Ignis truly understood.

He turned his back.

"I shall."

* * *

Ignis had never forgotten the path from the Throne Room to Noctis's quarters. He could have been blind again, surrounded by the darkness in its vast nothing and Ignis would have been able to run there.

The two Kingsglaive waited outside of the room, joking. But Ignis did not have time to give them more than a quick, "Go," before pulling the door open and throwing himself inside, slamming the lock down hard enough to leave his hand stinging.

He was so _close_.

Ignis almost lost his resolve there, standing between the foyer of Noctis's room and the door, and he listened to Noctis's sweet, soft breaths.

It took a moment for Ignis to pull himself together, to swallow back his own whimpers as his feet guided him forward.

Noctis was there, twisted against the sheets, his arms wrapped around a pillow, legs spread across the bed. The sheen of sweat against his brow, the slight stubble on his cheeks, the way his lips parted and moved in time with each breath.

His chest, _moving_.

Heart, **beating**.

Ignis tried to take a step forward yet his feet would let him go no further. He was a newborn fowl, his feet no longer able to carry him. Ignis caught himself on the corner of the nightstand, feeling the wood corner dig into his hand.

Noctis made a small sound, shifting in the bed, and the barely noticeable light from the curtain struck his face like a kiss.

Ignis stood silent with his knees broken below him as Noctis's eyes fluttered open, soft blue and glazed with sleep.

"Iggy—wuz wron?"

He wanted to respond, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and all he could feel was his heart seizing inside his body and every breath was a rush of air that left him feeling lightheaded and woozy.

The Crystal… no.

It was no imagination. It had happened, it was real.

Noctis's body breaking into ash, his heartbeat silent. Cold lips, harsh like a frozen tundra. The blood rushing over Ignis's hands—his hands. His blood and Noctis's. The blade biting against his flesh as he pulled the sword from the throne.

"He—hey, Ignis." Something about Noctis's voice was different, stronger and tinged with worry. Ignis watched him reach up and brush at his eyes, running his fingers across the hollows of his cheeks. "Whuzzit?"

And this was too much for Ignis. Noctis was awake, breathing and whole, and the only thing keeping Ignis from falling was his hand gripping the nightstand tight.

Noctis pulled himself out of the bed, not letting go of the sheet, instead swinging his feet over the side with it still wrapped around his lower half. His eyes were still blinking, so fast that Ignis had to look away.

"Iggy… please say something."

There were no words as Noctis reached out to grab Ignis with one arm, the other tightly wound around the sheet. Ignis found himself reaching out too, with both hands and weak knees.

Noctis was unable to keep them both upright and Ignis could not try.

 _Warmth_. His body was warm, pink and fresh, clean and soft and so inherently _**Noctis**_ that Ignis could not stop himself from clinging to Noctis's back, then shoulders, then to his face.

Soft cheeks, just a hint of baby fat. His harsh lips, the stubble on his chin, the small scar under his eye.

He could feel Noct, _his_ Noct, and he was real and this was real, and there was the little hair that stuck up in the back no matter what he did to keep it down, and there was the curve of his nose, and he was a blind man again reaching in the dark and memorizing everything by touch but now there was color and contrast and the crease in Noctis's dimple as he frowned.

Ignis couldn't stop himself from leaning forward to kiss the dimple, then his nose, and those harsh, dry lips that Ignis wished he could _drown_ in.

Noctis was panicking because Ignis realized only later that he was sobbing out Noctis's name like a prayer.

How long they say there on the floor, Ignis did not know. All he could do was cling to Noctis, to press their lips together, to trace his fingers against Noctis's face and stomach. There were no wounds. No sword. No trace of ash.

"Ignis, Iggy, what happened? Fuck, what happened to your hands?"

Ignis blinked through the haze of tears at Noctis, who grabbed both his wrists. He cradled them within his own palms.

He looked down to see the thick white scars, the braiding of his skin in a macabre warning straight down the lifeline of both his palms.

"An omen," Ignis whispered, voice breaking. "An omen of the Stars."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

"Ignis, Iggy. Please. What the fuck's gotten into you? What happened to your hands?"

Ignis could not formulate words that were coherent, instead staying on the floor with Noctis half-wrapped in blankets next to him. He refused to allow the other man a moment to step away or even to put on his pants, though he were sure he would be hearing complains into the future over it.

It didn't matter because Noctis was _there_ , Noctis was _alive_. Noctis was unbroken and breathing and so beautiful it made part of Ignis die, then come to life again.

And his lover knew that there was something wrong, because it would have been impossible for the man not to see it written so starkly across Ignis's face. How could explain it to him? How could he speak of Altissia, of the farce of a wedding, of Lady Lunafreya's death? How was he supposed to explain Ardyn, who had blinded Ignis and then, in the end, taken something so much more precious? How was he supposed to tell Noctis of the World of Ruin?

How was he supposed to explain the scars across his palms?

The ones on his heart?

"Noctis… I… It was the Crystal."

Noctis blinked at him and reached forward again to grab Ignis's hands. "What do you mean, 'the Crystal?' It's a rock, Iggy. What did you do, try to pick it up?" Ignis knew that tone of voice, the way Noctis's voice cracked and he ever so slightly capitulated to the pressure of the magic that was invisible to all but those of the Caelum line. His shoulders hunched forward just enough for it to show the back of his lover's neck.

Ignis reached up and rested one hand against the junction between his hairline and spine. "Noctis, you would do well to remember that we both know that is a farce."

Noctis sagged another ever so slight amount forward. "Don't go near that thing, Ignis. I'm serious. It's not something good."

 _Oh, Noctis. Sweet, naive Noctis._

He had no idea of the true fathoms of his words. He had no idea that the Crystal would swallow him whole, rip away ten years of their lives, would take the sun and the moon and the stars from Ignis's world. A dastardly, devious King of Lucis… his crown stolen from him. A man forced to walk with daemons wrought inside his soul, pulling at the pieces to play puppet once more.

The Crystal…

It should have been destroyed, the darkness that was Bahamut and the magic. It was evil, it was distorted. The Ring of the Lucii—it didn't take long for Ignis to realize that there was something inside the ring that breathed an intoxicating and terrifying air of blood magic.

And yet if they destroyed the Crystal…. Eos would die, a withered husk that had once been the cornucopia of dreams.

"I don't want to go near it," Ignis finally admitted, keeping his fingers pressed against that space, the little space that gave such remarkable comfort. It had been something they had picked up on their journeys. Noctis, no doubt, did not know it.

He had yet to suffer the pain of the Covenants between himself and the Astrals… and if it were up to Ignis, he never would.

There were other ways; there had to be better ways.

During the years of silence, of the dwindling light, Ignis had taken Aranea or Iris with him on his exploits through the World of Ruin. The three were excellent daemon hunters together, though Ignis knew it was no comparison to when it was the four of them… before. It was hard to stay near Prompto and Gladio after Noctis went into the Crystal; they never said it, but Ignis knew that they blamed Noctis's disappearance on themselves.

They wanted to blame Ardyn, and they certainly did, but it was their responsibility to protect Noctis… and they had all failed.

And so, Ignis found himself with Iris and Aranea more often than not, scouring the sites that made Ignis's dead eyes tear up. They visited each Royal Tomb, searching for what they hoped would bring them closer to finding the truth of what happened to Noctis, where they would be able to find him…. If they would be able to bring him home.

It was Costlemark Tower that gave them the information they had so long ago sought, as well as the drawing of what was the first King of Lucis.

The **true** King, the one forgotten by time and warring bloodlines.

Ignis could not see it, but Aranea could, and her words had been more than enough to cement the facts, to finally allow things to click into place.

 _"Yeah, that's that creepy chancellor all right."_

The more they searched Costlemark Tower, the more they understood about the Starscourge, about what it did—about what it was made to do.

What Noctis would want to do.

About what he **did**.

"Ignis, please. Just look at me. Tell me what is going on."

Ignis looked up into Noctis's blue eyes and they looked the same as they had that last night together. They had taken their own room in the Leville… a parting gift because they both knew that something would happen the next day, even though it was never spoken. There had been something in the air, an impenetrable fog that Ignis could not escape… and he had laid with Noctis against the finest sheets they had experienced since the beginning of their trip to Altissia.

They had felt like they were home.

Ignis let his hand trace down Noctis and then into the sheets, letting his fingers grasp at the soft, fine material. It rubbed against the calluses on the pads of his fingers, against the scars across his palms, and Ignis couldn't lie.

He couldn't do it.

"Noctis… has your father ever spoken to you about the Crystal?" They both knew the King had tried, but Ignis wasn't sure how much of it Noctis had truly listened to.

He could surround himself in finery, could read the papers that Ignis would lay out before him in crushing blue binders that contained a world Noctis never wanted, but underneath all of it Noctis was still young and scared. He was still searching for the reason to his existence, trying to stay away from the haunting melody that was the siren's call of the Crystal.

"I… some. Yeah."

Ignis nodded and felt Noctis shuffle across the floor, closer to him. "Did he ever speak of the Forgotten King?"

Noctis shook his head. "Uh, not that I can remember. But whatever it is, it's got you tied up in knots, Iggy." He reached out and rested his own hands against Ignis's shoulders. "It can't possible be that big of a deal."

"Yet you are quite incorrect." Ignis knew the story of the Forgotten King; it had just taken the time to connect the dots.

"There was a King, once upon a time. He was gifted with the Ring of the Lucii, with the promise of the Crystal. He came from humble beginnings, but inside of him and his line ran the blood of the King of Solheim."

"What's with the history lesson—"

Ignis raised his fingers to Noctis's lips. "Hush. Let me…. Please, just let me speak."

Noctis's mouth was pulled down into a frown, but he acquiesced.

"The King had a queen and a child, blessed by the Six. He was meant to be the healer of Eos, to stand by the line of Tenebraen Oracles and to clear the Starscourge. He could take in their tainted souls and clean them of their blight."

The books on him were hard to find and even harder to transcribe, particularly considering Ignis was blind and had to trust the work to others. Yet some of the Glaive had been willing to help him in the chance that what he would find would be able to heal the Starscourge and return the sun to the sky. It was a chance for him to return Noctis to his throne, to pull him from the Crystal.

"If he was so important then there's no way we'd forget him."

Ignis closed his eyes and reached up, pushing his glasses up. "The Six forsook him. His blood was deemed unclean, his soul tainted by the magic he had warped and the daemons he had taken upon himself."

It was still so strange to have sight; the Crystal knew that every moment, every unbearable moment of the past ten years had been real. Ignis could remember the twinge of the fire across his skin even now. Yet opening his eyes to see Noctis, it was like coming home.

"The King was imprisoned upon the Isle of Angelgard, kept hidden in shame, as they could not kill him. The rot of his soul was too immeasurable." Ignis had tried to find what came of his family, of the child mentioned, but there were no records. Ignis wasn't sure if it had been that the Caelum line had erased their sin from the pages of history or if it had been Ardyn. "He stayed there for a millennia, listening to nothing but his own screams and the sound of the sea."

When he put it that way, it almost made Ardyn seem to be a sympathetic character, a man that was moral and good. Yet Ignis knew there was nothing moral and good about the man; he was no more than a monster. Nothing could cure the taint in his soul. Perhaps once upon a time, in the days of old, Ardyn Lucis Caelum was a righteous King, a just King, a loving King. But time had taken that, and so had the Crystal.

"In Costlemark Tower there is a key to a library in the lowest pits of the dungeon, past the Jabberwock. We traversed the deadly tunnels, past the daemons, and we found it. I had Iris and Aranea bring the books back with us, anything that would help to explain what could have happened…. Where we had gone wrong." Ignis looked away from Noctis, whose face was contorted in confusion.

"Who's Aranea? Costlemark Tower? And Iris? Iggy… when you said it was an Omen of the Stars… what did you mean?"

Ignis didn't look back into Noctis's face until his lover grabbed him by the chin and pulled his face forward.

"Are you even Ignis at all?"

"Don't be daft—"

"You can't hear yourself, damn it!" Noctis shouted as he grabbed Ignis and pulled him close, smashing their lips together. It was not a kiss of love or passion, but something between fear and panic.

Noctis pulled their mouths apart. "Are you Ignis? What did the Crystal do to you? Ignis, _fuck_ —"

There was a sound of a clatter against the door and Noctis pulled away from him and skidded across the way toward his bed. It was locked, but if Regis was on the other side then it would only be a moment or two before the man would come inside, not caring for the compromising position that Noctis was in, the blankets barely hiding anything of his body.

The thrumming of the magic was beginning to pull at Ignis's stomach; it was the way the ring felt when it was too close, the way it tried to beckon him into its embrace, oily like tar and daemon blood. Noctis told him just once about the whispers and the pull of its magic…. It wanted Noctis to give himself to its power. It wanted him.

"Noctis, it is me. Please don't be frightened. You know that I would never lie to you, Love. There's no reason to be frightened." Not of Ignis. The ring on the other hand?

That was evil, no matter what Bahamut had said. There was nothing holy about its power.

"Then who is trying to break into my room?"

Ignis shakily got to his feet; this wasn't how he wanted this to go. He wanted to hold Noctis, to never let him go again. He had yearned for this moment, wished for it thousands of times under millions of stars, shouted his anger towards the heavens to the gods who did not listen.

He was being given his second chance; he couldn't lose it.

He couldn't lose him.

Not _again_.

"Your father, no doubt. I did leave quite abruptly. No doubt he has his questions." Ignis walked past the mess on the floor of blankets and toward the door. It would be best to meet the King outside of Noctis's chambers, to allow Noct a moment to collect himself.

"I'm not wearing any pants."

Ignis almost could have cried at the way Noctis's voice lilted there and how normal, how simple and human that sound had been. Had it not been for the incessant knocking on the door, Ignis would have been happy to spend the morning wrapped around Noctis. He just wanted to hold the man, to feel that heartbeat against him. He wished that the King would have given him longer….

"I'll take care of your father. Please put something decent on, lest he think I debauched you."

"Iggy… you're going to need to explain yourself." It was almost comical how the roles had reversed. Yet, Ignis knew as he slowly opened the door into the main room that he would need to explain to Noctis. He simply did not know _how_.

"Love, put your clothing on. I'll speak with your father." Ignis was tempted to tell the King to bugger off, to allow Ignis time with Noctis; he hadn't even gotten more than a few moments with him. He needed this, in a way that a man stranded in the desert thirsted for the cool sensation of water. He was a man, dying of thirst… and Noctis was the only thing what could sate him. Just the chance to look at him, to watch him… to get to explain this to him...

Noctis pulled up his blankets around his waist, the black silk reminding Ignis of the night sky above them during all those nights in Lucis. He nodded his head, ever so slight, as Ignis slowly opened the door and slid his way out, greeted by the face of King Regis and Clarus.

"We were not done with our conversation, Ignis." King Regis's voice was not cold, but he knew it was the voice of a King speaking, not a father. This was a man whose Empire and only son stood certain death and Ignis had told him as much.

"Your Majesty," Ignis began, but Regis cut him off.

"I am sorry, Ignis. If I could, I would allow you the chance to reunite with Noctis. I do not know how long it has been since you have seen my son—" Ignis bit back a wince at the choice of words, but he hoped it hadn't shown on his face, "—but there are things that must be done. When The Crystal gives an Omen we must record it. Otherwise…"

"I assure you, I shan't forget it." It would be hard to, having lived in the darkness for ten years…

"And I believe you. Yet, Ignis, we must know what the Crystal told you. You have been the only one to see the Dawn, the destruction of the Accursed."

Ignis looked to Clarus, whose mouth was drawn into a severe slash across his mouth, his hand idly playing with the sword. The visitor had put both men on edge that much he could remember. The halls had been abuzz with the promise of what would happen in the aftermath of the visitor's trip into the Citadel. It was almost absurd how clearly Ignis could remember the way Noctis looked across his sheets, about the way the light crested against his cheek, and yet it was so difficult to remember the pieces before that moment or after. It had only been Noctis that was important…. Until this moment, until now.

The continuance of the bloodline. Lady Lunafreya. The taint of the Ring and how it would pulse inside of the Crystal, holding Noctis inside.

"Regis, we should give them some time. You know what the Crystal's power can do."

Ignis looked to Gladio's father, to the man who had helped craft the perfect lance for him when it was his turn to learn to protect Noct. These two men, who had been more tha just his King and his Shield, yet now seemed so distant. Gladio was the Shield now, and Noctis...

Noctis was his King.

Ignis had questions, so many questions. Was what he had seen real? He could remember every nerve on fire. He could feel the blood on his hand, the ash of Noctis's body… his cold lips…

He was careful not to allow the feelings inside of him to cause him to crash down to the ground before the King and his Shield. It was close, but he only barely managed to fight the urge. Yet, despite his hope that the King would not notice he was certain that Clarus had, for the man was quick to grab his arm to steady him.

"Regis, I think it would be best if we allowed him to rest. You were laid up in bed for days after—"

But Ignis cut him off. "Your Majesty, you are right." Despite wanting that time, that precious moment to feel Noctis's warmth… there simply was not enough time.

What mattered now was not what Ignis needed, what he yearned for. What they needed was time and there was scant amount of that available. It was only a matter of days from when they first left Insomnia until the night of the signing. It was... it was too fast. It was too much.

The door behind them clicked open and Ignis was careful when he turned to see Noctis. He wasn't wearing his fatigues, instead scrounging up a pair of jeans and a t-shirt of one of those terrible bands that Noctis had so loved. He hadn't brought any of them on the trip and he had always assumed that what was left of Noctis's stash would no doubt be in the boxes inside his apartment.

It was always the smallest of things that made Ignis love him. Even his terrible t-shirt collection. It had always been Noctis, and would always be Noctis.

"Is anyone going to explain to me what's going on?"

Ignis could not look at Noctis, not at that moment. Instead he turned to stare at the room, looking back and forth from the chandelier to the soft black carpet. Yet the room was nothing but ghosts from long ago.

If he closed his eyes he could see Noctis sitting on the couch, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair with his phone dangling out of his hand. He could see Noctis at the small table to the side, tapping the table with his pencil as he learned the basics of writing. He could see a thousand scenes of their young childhood together in the room, and Ignis was logical enough to realize that what was happening was no doubt influenced by the queasy feeling in his stomach.

"It's best if you give us a moment with Ignis, Noctis."

"I'm not leaving him."

"Noctis…" Ignis tried, but was cut off. The feeling was rushing up his stomach, pulling him down. He could feel it like a poison spell. No, not poison. It felt more like the moment he had been pulled backward, pulled by the magic, pulled by the Crystal.

"Noctis, it's best if you don't come with us—" King Regis began, but he was unable to continue as Ignis's knees finally gave out below him.

He could hear it in his ears, against his skin, on his eyelids, in Noctis's voice when he yelled his name.

Something in his head, something….

It was _laughing_.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

Ignis's head ached. Despite that, it was not the first thing that Ignis noticed. It was the warm hand against his cheek, tickling at the skin near the crease of his mouth that caught his attention. It was a hand he had woken to against his cheek so many times, so long ago. It was a hand that Ignis had felt again only once before they went toward the outline of Insomnia in the darkness of the World of Ruin.

Just once.

He didn't want to open his eyes to the darkness. This dream, this memory, was beautiful. Noctis on his old bed in the Citadel. Noctis's heart beat against his ear. Noctis's lips against his own. Noctis's hand cradling his cheek.

"Ignis, wake up."

Despite being blind for ten years, it was difficult to keep his eyes closed. It was why he wore the glasses; Ignis knew that his eyes were unsettling. He had heard the brief comments in the days before leaving Altissia. In the direct aftermath of the loss of his eyes, someone had muttered about them. It was in the color, in the milky white clouds. Ignis tried to think of it as the milk stirred into coffee, but all he could imagine was puss and pain. It was all he felt, either way.

He didn't even know who had said it; no doubt they regretted their decision after Gladio threatened to break every bone in his body, but it meant little in form of an apology.

The truth of the matter was that he didn't want Noctis to see them when he woke. He never wanted to hear disgust in Noct's voice. He knew that Noctis loved him, but he also knew that what had happened to his face, the scars that had swallowed his eyes... How could someone love the feeling of it against their mouth when he himself could not bear to touch it? How could they feel pleasure when running their fingers across his raised and ruined flesh?

After Altissia, Noctis barely touched him. The pain was too fresh, the pleasure hard to accept in those moments of frailty. A few times they had given in to each other, the need for human contact driving both of them nearly mad. Yet Ignis had always feared allowing Noctis to make love to him without his glasses.

Only once, just once… In the never-ending night. It was too dark for Noctis to see, and Ignis wanted to pretend that they had simply extinguished the light.

With or without the glasses, Ignis never quite mastered the skill of how to move about his day without letting his eyes snap open to take in the inky blackness. Occasionally there was a murky color in his right eye, more of tease than actual sight, but—

Ignis's eyes opened to the brightness of Noctis's face.

It flooded back like a monsoon, and Ignis reached up to grab Noctis's face and pull him down. Warm, dry lips. Stubble on his cheek. Soft bed sheets under them. Hands through his hair.

A cough erupted from the side next to the bed and Ignis snapped his head away from Noctis to Regis. The king sat on the black leather chair in the corner of the room like it were a throne. The man was regal despite sitting with his cane across his knees and the tremor to his knuckles. Ignis could see the Ring on his finger, the one that Ignis knew caused constant and unending pain. It glimmered red the way Noctis's eyes did when he accepted the strength of the Astrals or pulled the Royal Arms from the Armiger.

Ignis at least had been blessed with never having been forced to see Noctis with the Ring upon his hand. That… that would have been more than Ignis could bear. Just listening to the sounds of pain were terrible in their own right.

"It is good to see that you have returned to us, none the worse for wear."

Following the King's hand, Ignis realized that the faint light from the morning sunrise had crested through the now open curtains. It must have been noon, slowly fading into dusk. Noon… the sun.

Ignis pulled away, though he didn't have the energy to be embarrassed. He didn't even drop his hand away from Noctis's face. "My apologies."

Forcing himself up onto his elbows, Ignis did a quick assessment of the room. Thankfully they had moved him into Noct's chambers instead of dragging him across the Citadel. His old rooms were located in the South Tower, far enough to be cumbersome and close enough for Ignis to make his way through the Citadel at any time he were needed.

Of course, that had been before Noctis had moved out of the Citadel… Now their home was hidden between Noctis's fresh sheets in the penthouse suite.

Regis did not seem to be fazed by their outward affection, though he did allow his peppered eyebrow to quirk up. "No reason to apologize, Ignis. Clarus was correct; after the events that transpired today, no doubt you must have been exhausted. But," the King said as he grabbed hold of the top of his cane, gently resting the tip onto the carpeted floor, "I believe you to have heard something just prior to your loss of consciousness. Yes?"

Ignis looked to Noctis, whose face had gone ashy.

"No. Iggy didn't hear anything. Right?"

When Noctis had been but a little boy, scared of the monster who spoke to him from inside of his closet, it had been Ignis to chase down the imaginary beasts. He would battle them in grand fights, using the small practice knives to slay Noctis's foes— or at least pretend to. It only took time for Ignis to realize that it had never been an imaginary Boogieman inside of his Prince's closet. Not when there was a Crystal willing to speak of the terrors of the eternal night.

It was worse than a Boogieman.

"Noctis," Ignis began, but Noctis shook his head.

"No. You can't hear it. You can't."

Ignis looked back to the King, who looked so much older than he had that morning. Or, rather, the way Ignis had remembered him.

"Noctis... I believe that Ignis was chosen by the Crystal in the Throne Room. You remember what I taught you of the Crystal and its Omens?"

Ignis had known so little about the Crystal, about what it truly was, before Noctis had gone into it. It had taken years of studying, years of pulling apart text after text, decoding and recoding, for Ignis to finally make sense of what the Crystal was. What it was…

Blood magic. Something tied to the Lucis line into their very DNA. The tests to figure out what magic the Oracle line held to combat the Starscourge had been one of the first of many failed tests into the blood. Lunafreya's body had been lost to the sea and her home to the Niflheim army's bombs, so what little was left had been useless. There had been an attempt to use the blood of those who were cured of the Scourge, but their blood was clean…. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Sania thought it could have had something to do with the magic of the Crystal, attempting to use what little DNA could be found of Noctis, even going as far as to use some of Noctis's old hair to extract scientific data. Each time they tried the samples would turn to ash under microscopes…

In all the years of studying, of searching Costlemark and Steyliff and every other tomb, Ignis had only been able to gather the bits and pieces of what the Crystal was assumed to be. Some believed that the Crystal had been a blessing from the Astrals to purge the darkness; it was what was taught to Ignis when he was child studying the mythos of Eos. And certainly there was lore, from paintings to stories, even to dated documents that spoke of the rise of the Caelum family…

Even of Ardyn Lucis Caelum. Not many, scant even a handful that had somehow been saved from the pyres of history, but enough. And each one spoke of the Crystal as a gift, as a promise to protect.

Yet there was something very peculiar about the history of the Crystal, one that had always bothered Ignis. It niggled at the back of his mind, the way a puzzle would that he had spent too much time looking at. The pieces would meld together until he rubbed his eyes and looked away. Yet every time he glanced away the pieces would move and he would be forced to begin from the very beginning.

History stated that the Crystal had been granted during a time of great strife to the Lucis Caelum family, to protect it from those who would use and wield it for power. Yet the books in Costlemark, the ones that were read in a language long dead spoke of a Crystal…

Solheim.

Ignis was shaken from his thought by Noctis, who smacked his hands against the bed.

"But Iggy's been with me for years!" Noctis burst, the springs under him bouncing in response to his violent outburst. "He's lived here since he was a kid. If it wanted him, it would have—it would have done this before! Not _now_. And he's never been close enough for it to influence him. There's a reason we don't let people near it." The passion in Noct's voice reminded Ignis that this was still his young, vibrant Noctis. Time in the Crystal had yet to steal that from him.

Yet...

Ignis could not remember a time before that moment where he and Noctis had spoken at any length about the Crystal, about its power. Other than the occasional joke or jab, they did not dawdle on the Crystal. Of course they had spoken of the Ring, of responsibilities and duties, about the magic the Crystal had given his line. Ignis had been by his side when he first pulled his ancestor's Royal Arms from the ether and as he drew out energy from the ground itself to use to craft spells. He knew that Noctis had the innate ability to call upon the magic as his father did, but he had never chosen to do so.

Yet, the Crystal itself?

Ignis could vaguely remember a day when he was young, too young to know better or to understand. Noctis was always such a rowdy and rambunctious little thing, always wanting to sneak through the Citadel. Ignis followed without question, following Noctis's chubby legs as they carried him long past his quarters, down the winding gold and onyx steps toward something Ignis had known even as a small child was something he did not want to see. Noctis had been fascinated, had even said that it had called to him. Ignis was old enough at the time to understand that the connection between the King and the Crystal was different than a mere mortal. He could never have such a connection to the Crystal, nor did he want it.

But the little boy had laughed when Ignis told him of his feelings, saying over and over that the Crystal called to him. Didn't Ignis want to hear it?

Called to him…

It was not the first time the Crystal would sing to Noctis and Noctis would answer… It took time for the terror to build up within Noctis. By the time he was attacked by the Marilith the desire to be close with the Crystal was long gone. In its place was the sheer horror that Ignis could understand and now, having lived through an Omen, empathized all too well.

There had always been a question Ignis couldn't answer, and in the scant amount of time between Noct's return and Insomnia he hadn't asked. Why hadn't he asked? Lack of time. Lack of willingness to accept the meaning behind a final question. Mostly, he was sure, was fear and anger and all-consuming guilt.

In Gralea, why had Noctis touched the Crystal? Had it been to save their lives?

"Noctis, please. I worry that this may have been caused by my request this morning. The Crystal has been known to make choices on its own to do what it thinks is best for our line."

Ignis did not want Noctis to find out about the wedding, Niflheim, the World of Ruin, his own father's knowledge about Noctis's Ascension... Not in this way.

But how was Ignis supposed to prevent the future from taking place if he said nothing?

"If I may?" Ignis asked as he adjusted himself to sit against the headboard. He let go of Noctis's face and hair, despite his own desperation wishing to cling like a child and never let go.

"Iggy, the Crystal didn't do anything to you," Noctis replied sharply, the burn of his cheeks reminding Ignis of all the anger and fury his King could keep under the surface.

"On the contrary," Ignis replied, allowing his tone to belie the honesty and terror he knew he could not fight or hide. "The Crystal gave me an… I believe it was an Omen." He did not mention to Noctis then what it felt like to have his skin burn off or the coldness of Noctis's own lips. Would Noctis believe him? Would Noctis want to believe him?

"But Omens don't happen, not anymore." He turned to his father. "Right? You always told me they didn't really happen anymore."

Ignis looked to the King, whose face lost some of its color. "I had one when you were four. If it was anything like the Omen young Ignis experienced… it is a small wonder that he was able to wake before the month was out."

"I… I don't get it. It's not possible."

Ignis had been taught when he was a little boy to avoid the Crystal's chamber. It was housed just above the Throne Room, and the smell of death seemed to hemorrhage through the stone. Yet other than when he had followed after Noctis, he had never gotten close…

No closer than the Throne Room.

"Noctis, an Omen is not something we can control. It comes when it wishes to those it deems worthy."

Worthy. Ignis snorted, making both Noctis and Regis look at him, though one was with cool collect while the other was a burning flame.

"I hardly consider myself worthy," Ignis began, but was quickly silenced by Regis.

"It does not matter whether or not you believed yourself to be worthy; the Crystal chose you to give its gift to."

A summer of passion and fear. Ten years of darkness.

A gift?

"Yes, Ignis. A gift. A terrible, capricious gift. But a gift nonetheless."

Ignis turned his cheek if he had been slapped, closing his eyes tight. Regis did not understand; he would never be able to understand exactly as Ignis felt. Those ten years, the times he had let his hand trace against the Crystal where Noct's hand was encased below. So close and yet Ignis could never touch that skin.

It took a moment for him to turn his face back. Ignis reached up to grab Noctis, pulling their foreheads together. Warm, living skin.

If it meant Noctis would live, Ignis would suffer a thousand years in desolation. He would give anything never to feel the blood squelching in his hands.

"But that doesn't explain how Ignis was chosen. He never went close to that fucking thing."

Ignis wanted to say something about Noct's language, but bit his tongue. It was such a Noctis thing. No decorum, none at all. He had never been expected to retain them in his personal life, and Ignis had never worried. As long as he remembered it for the Galas or the events, the rest of the time he could say as he pleased. Still, this was his King.

"That's not true, Noctis…"

Once; the night when Noctis had dragged him to the Crystal and… that was it… wasn't it?

"Once—when you were a little boy. You wished to show me the Crystal. I remember… I remember your mother."

Noctis swallowed. "My mother?"

Ignis frowned. He did not remember much about Queen Aulea. She had been a beautiful ghost of his memory, ethereal and wondrous. He tried to recall her face, her eyes, her smile and yet it was a blank page. Her pictures were scarce within the Citadel, though there were quite a few adorning the walls throughout Noctis's private rooms. The same blue eyes, the same mouth.

"It is one of the few memories I have of her." Ignis did not mention his last memory of the queen, how death had taken her by the Scourge. Noctis did not remember and Regis did not need to think back to that time. "She found us in the Crystal chamber. You wanted to show me something of great import to you, and I followed you."

If Ignis closed his eyes he could almost remember the voice that Noctis had told him was there but Ignis pretended wasn't. The small whisper in his ear, the one that made Ignis uncomfortable, the one that had always been there and yet to easy to push to the back of his mind. It was barely there. Unimportant.

"There was another."

Ignis looked to Regis quizzically. "No, I assure you, it was only once." After Noctis went into the Crystal, Ignis had clutched the sides of the Crystal and tried over and over to claw his way through. Something tapered off the power… something had drained the Crystal of its Light...

Regis looked away from him, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Aulea… she told me of finding you in the Crystal's chambers. However… there was another time."

"When." Not a question.

A command.

"Aulea and Noctis were upon their deathbeds... I was inconsolable. There are no words of apology that would be enough, Ignis. No one was there to comfort you; I regretted it immediately when they found you in the Chamber. It was too late for Aulea, but the Crystal reached out to Noctis. It told me that he would be the King of Light and I should have known then…"

"Known what?" Ignis could barely keep the quiver from his voice.

"The Crystal chooses those it deems worthy. You were just a boy, barely six, and we did not consider that the Crystal would take you… not then."

"But I wasn't taken then," Ignis responded immediately. "I remember when the Queen died. I remember when Noctis was taken ill. Not well, but I remember it. And more importantly, I was not sent back not the body of a six year old boy."

"It is true, the Crystal did not take you then… but perhaps it bonded with you. Or perhaps it bonded with you when you were even younger. Do you remember the light?"

Ignis nodded his head, looking into Noctis's blue eyes. "Of course I do. It engulfed the entire Citadel. Bright pink and blinding—"

Noctis squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck, fuck," Noctis murmured, pulling himself away from Ignis. "No, you _can't_."

"Of course I can, Noctis. It's in the very walls of this Citadel, wrought above our heads. It's in the New Wall; it always has been."

Ignis could have heard a pin drop.

"Ignis, you can see the Wall?"

Noctis scrambled off the bed, flinging out his arms. "No, he damn well _can't_."

"I don't understand the importance; the wall is visible to all—"

Noctis spun on his heel, jabbing his finger toward Regis. "Only to those with the Crystal's power. You told me that, didn't you?" The hysterical note to Noct's voice only led more credence to Ignis's own confusion.

"When you were sixteen I was linked to your magic. I've been able to draw from the Armiger for years." Yes, he had been able to see the Wall longer than that connection, but…

"Yeah, but you were linked to _my_ magic. But if you can see the Wall, then that means you gave something to the Crystal. You made a deal with it. The Crystal doesn't just _give_ Omens, Iggy. You…" Noctis grabbed his head, screaming out a sound that reminded Ignis of the Daemons in the ruins of Insomnia. " _Fuck_. What did you trade? What did you do?" Noctis's voice cracked and Ignis tried to climb from the bed, his limbs feeling like lead.

"I gave nothing to it, Noct," Ignis promised, though the words tasted wrong in his mouth.

"If you gave it nothing, then you wouldn't _hear_ it. You wouldn't _see_ it."

"But I've heard it since I was a child—"

"Damn it, Ignis."

Regis finally stood, reaching out to grab Noctis by the shoulder. Ignis saw his walking stick tremble under the pressure. "Son, calm yourself— Ignis did not do any of this on purpose. We do not have any way of telling exactly what is going with the Crystal, what it has planned."

The wild look in Noctis's eyes… It was something Ignis knew well. That was the face Noctis wore when he woke from the night terrors that would grip his lover throughout his childhood and into adulthood. It was the reason Ignis stayed so close for so long, even after he had known that it would be seen as inappropriate if anyone found out. Wide-eyed, unblinking, feverish red to the cheeks and just the hint of something, an unknown color, in Noctis's eyes…

"Noctis. I assure you, if I knew anything more of the Crystal I would have told you. My interactions with it were limited and brief until…"

"Until what, Iggy?"

Was it fair? Was it right to share?

Part of Ignis wanted to hide it from Noctis, to protect him from the pain the Crystal would doubtlessly pour down their spines like frozen water. Yet Ignis could not lie to Noctis. Not about this.

Bracing himself against the backboard, Ignis answered. "Until you were taken into the Crystal."

Noctis pulled his shoulder away from his father's hand. "Wh—what?"

"We were outnumbered, locked inside of Gralea's Zegnautus Keep. The Daemons kept coming in waves… I couldn't fight them, not in my condition. Prompto and Gladio were on their last Elixirs and then…. They went quiet. So very quiet, I could hear them breathing." Ignis shut his eyes, remembering the inhuman sound underneath the roars. Heartbeats. Breath. More than once was the faint echo of a scream, a sob, a broken moan.

"But Daemons don't breathe."

Ignis shook his head. "I assure you, they do. The darkness's blight, the Plague the Wicked hath wrought. They… they were once human."

Both Noctis and Regis responded in kind, but Ignis shook his head and raised his hand. Oh, how much his hand felt like it weighed. "Please, this is difficult enough. Please, allow me to finish. I will answer any of your questions after."

In that moment it was clear that Noctis and Regis were father and son; the turn of their lips, their frowns… how had Noctis looked with his beard? How had Noctis looked when he died? No—Ignis knew better, he could not think of Noctis that way. Not now, when he was so alive in front of him.

"Then I insist that before we continue that we find a scribe to take down your words. We keep record of all Omens—"

"Absolutely not."

"I beg your pardon," Regis began, but Ignis spoke over him.

"My words cannot leave this room. There are scant few whom we can trust. I do not know much, but on our travels after the nights lengthened we met with a band of Glaives who had survived the ordeal. There were… there with men within the Kingsglaive ranks who acted as Niflheim operatives."

That has both come as a devastating blow, and yet…. Not surprising. Not at all. "The forfeit of lands, the deaths of their people… they did not consider you their king. The wounds were fresh and the treaty, while well-intentioned, did nothing to alleviate their concerns.

"There was a man who was once one of your elite. He told us of the uprising, of the trickery, of a plot by those within your closest circle. This man helped to escort Lady Lunafreya out the city, when… when the Wall fell."

Regis slumped back into his chair, dropping his cane. Noctis was barely able to stand, and Ignis wished that he could reach out to slowly guide Noctis down to the bed, to let him rest. They both knew what it meant if the Wall fell. They both knew the precious payment in blood.

"So. It falls."

Ignis nodded. "It does. In a fortnight or so. There wasn't much time between the announcement of the engagement and our departure." Iglis looked to Noctis, happy that it seemed this one point was already known to the other man. Noctis did not look pleased by the announcement, but… there would never be a wedding. After everything they had gone through as young men, after living and loving and dying…

"Ignis, who can we trust?"

Ignis looked to the King, at his parchment-thin skin and his trembling hand. "The Amicitia family and their staff, Jared and his young grandson. Cor Leonis. Monica Elshett. Dustin Ackers." There were not many that Ignis knew for certain were on their side.

"Do you know who was against us?"

"For certain? Drautos."

Ignis could see the pain in Regis's face, in the clench of his jaw, in the vein beating against his throat.

"Are you _certain_?" The King closed his eyes, and Ignis had to vocalize his reply.

"Undoubtedly. He is General Glauca."

The information of Glauca's true identity had been one of the only reasons why Ignis and Gladio had not murdered the man, Libertus Ostium, where he stood. The man had been a traitor, and yet…. Imparting that knowledge had at least filled in some of the gaps who what had taken place as Insomnia fell. And despite his act of cowardice, he had also protected Lady Lunafreya (no matter how it ended in blood and water and blindness.)

He had also given them a single blade… to be used when they found the other.

The room was silent for a moment before Noctis spoke. His voice somehow was measured, through Ignis could already hear the cracks. "The Glaive are lost causes. We can't trust any of them"

Regis turned his head to Noctis, eyes narrowed. "Not all. Ignis, you said that a man helped Lady Lunafreya. He would be beneficial to us, no doubt."

"I think it would be best to not involve him. While I do think he is a good man, I do not believe he can be trusted at this time. But—" Ignis stopped himself, but the glances from both Noctis and Regis spurned him forward. "There is another man. We never met, for I believe he passed during the battle of Insomnia. I was told that the Ring granted him its power—"

"That's impossible, Iggy," Noctis began, but was silenced by Regis.

"It is quite possible. Rare, incredibly so… I can only think of two recorded events; once by a Shield during the Rouge dynasty and another…" Ignis looked down to the Ring on his finger. He ghosted the tip of his finger across the red stone. "I cannot quite remember whom."

The softness of the King's words, the caress like a lover to his Ring, the Ring that Ignis knew to cause nothing but agony to the wearer…. There was more to it, and Noctis seemed to know so, too. Yet Regis said no more, instead dropping his hands back into his lap. "It is possible, Noctis. Did this man gain the power of the Ring of the Lucii?"

"I was told so. We later found a short letter addressed to Lady Lunafreya in the wreckage of Insomnia, along with a Kukri. It matched the one his friend gave us. The letter… he seemed very fond of her."

Ignis remembered how Prompto explained the paper to him; the shaky handwriting, the long-dried blood spatter, the promise for a better day and for a world with hope. A whisper of some kind of affection, because why would a man spend his last moments writing a letter to someone who would never see it? It was more of a comfort to him than anything else. Ignis could understand that feeling, more than he cared to admit.

"I believe his name was Ulric. Nyx Ulric."

* * *

Essh. Sorry for the kind of information dump. I genuinely hate information dumps, but I need these first few chapters to just be airing out old grievances so that we can actually get to plot and fun times. It sucks when you have one character with a bottomless source of information and he's having to try and fill in the holes. No wonder it's easier for characters to just keep in all the information they have.

Yet, for this story... it just wouldn't work. Ignis would never hide the truth from Noctis, and if they are to stop the Omen, they're all going to need as many hands on deck as possible.

If you notice any problems please let me know

 **Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Author Notes: This is a Nyx!focused chapter. I needed a way to introduce him in, and I hope that you like it. I think whenever I introduce a new POV character they'll get one dedicated chapter before I start making the scenes shorter and adding multiple scenes per chapter. I haven't quite decided yet... Most chapters will be Ignis-focused, but we will have "guest" scenes where others will be narrating. I think it will be best for the flow of the story and to give you a wider perspective.

In addition, I highly recommend that you read "A King's Wizard" before this, otherwise you will be very confused as to who Marilynn is. If you don't want to read, I'm sure you'll fill in the holes slowly. She's a fun character. You'll get to see her a bit in this fic later on, but most of it will be in the prologue pieces that I'll be putting up as I write them. I wanted to give you a bit of a warning about that before you proceeded.

* * *

"Ulric, look sharp."

"Why?"

"Because look."

Nyx turned his head to the sleek black Regalia that shimmered in the mid-afternoon sun. It was a beauty of a car: one of those oldies that probably would have cost him an arm and a leg just on the upkeep, but when he sank into its sweet leather embrace he would have been able to feel the purr of its sweet engine.

It reminded him a lot of the car his father had when he was a little boy. He could remember sitting in the front seat on his father's lap, his feet trying to kick at the pedals. He could also remember what it was like to have the tips of his boots ever so slightly crest over the top of his father's feet. Those warm Galahd days, filled with childhood memories like silvery ghosts without shape or purpose, were gone. But the car still stood the testament of time.

And something dropped straight down through Nyx's stomach as he stared at it, because even the lowest Crownsguard knew exactly whose car that was.

Especially considering it was driving straight through the official Kingsglaive compound.

Nyx pulled himself into a straight-backed position, his boots smacking together hard enough to make his teeth chatter against one another. He laced his fingers behind his back and quickly cleared the lop-sided smile right off his face. Libertus and Crowe were quick to follow suit. Pelna, who was still on the ground with inky black tar and ash ripping out of his lungs, stumbled halfway to a dignified position before groaning and tossing himself back to his knees.

"It's just Ignis," Pelna groaned. "Shit, Ignis. You scared me."

Ignis?

Nyx did not allow himself to move from his position until the car door opened. A man exited—definitely not the King.

"Enough to have you on your knees?"

"You're still supposed to want me dead, aren't you?"

No. Pelna was right. It was Ignis Scientia, the Prince's Chamberlain and bedwarmer.

It wasn't as though it were a secret through the Citadel, especially after the fiasco that had been Scientia's wedding ceremony to the Countess Marilynn. The papers had been nothing but a flurry of scandalous and salacious reports and exposes for months after. Even now, three years after, the incident was still brought up in clandestine chatter and in the gossip rags... What exactly had happened?

Meh.

Nyx hadn't bothered to read most of them, especially since Pelna had taken to lighting them on fire with a vindictive bloodlust that had made everyone in the Kingsglaive avoid bringing magazines or newspapers to work for a solid year.

Of course, Nyx couldn't blame the guy... It wasn't every day that a Prince interrupted a wedding and a member of the Kingsglaive ran off with the bride through the Citadel's front doors.

Perhaps bedwarmer was a little crueler than Nyx should have been, but at the same time...

Nyx let his arms drop from the formal position for the royal family and into the more familiar position for the Crownsguard. It was a little amusing for Nyx to be so respectful to the man flipping car keys between his fingers, his suit half-untucked and completely unlike what Nyx could remember of the younger man. It wasn't as though he had too much personal experience with the man, mostly through simple interactions when he had been assigned to Noctis's personal guard. Still... there were certain things that were well known in the Citadel. Just like everyone knew that the Prince and the Chamberlain were closer than they should have been...

And another one of those things was that Ignis Scientia did not look undone. No matter the time, no matter the situation, the bespectacled man with the ridiculous pompadour hair and the perfectly shined shoes was exactly that. Perfectly kept.

Even in the most unflattering of situations. Like... well, getting dumped at the alter. Nyx had seen that picture enough times to have it pretty well memorized.

Yet here he was with his black suit wrinkled, the white shirt untucked. The top button was undone, a small skull pendant twinkling in the afternoon light. The only thing that seemed typical was his loafers, though Nyx was pretty sure he could see a scuff on the insole.

The man pushed his glasses up and looked between the four, slamming the door to the Regalia closed. There was a look to the man's green eyes that made Nyx pause. This looked like Scientia, but...

Nyx nearly missed the passenger-side door opening as another guy pulled himself out of the car. Black mussed hair, black clothes, ruffled expression. Yawning. That was the one that gave it away.

Nyx was quick to his knee, resting his forehead against his black fatigues. Crowe and Libertus next to him, a straight line of perfect Glaive, followed like marionettes. It did take a little work for Libertus considering the cast on his foot, but he still managed.

Pelna groaned as he tried to move.

"Pelna, don't bother. I don't need your pregnant wife killing me."

"Ugh, yeah. Okay." Pelna allowed himself to go still, and the man above him only gently prodded him with the tip of his Etroboutin boots.

"Glaives, at ease."

It truly was a peculiar thing to hear those words from the Crown Prince, especially since the little Nyx had seen had been of a baby-faced and somewhat spoiled young man who had never truly seen the horrors of war. King Regis had sheltered his son, had always made it seem as though he were just another young man instead of the Prince. That had always been something that rubbed Nyx a little in the wrong way. What was so special about Prince Noctis?

Yet despite this, Nyx would have laid himself down on a pit of roasting nails to protect the Prince. It wasn't even that he was Prince—no. Fealty to the King and the Royal family be damned.

What he had done for Pelna had been enough.

It wasn't as tight of a binding as his devotion to King Regis, but it was certainly a good start. For all his faults, Nyx believed that there was a bit of Kingly aptitude somewhere underneath all of the hair.

"Your Highness," Nyx responded. "How can we help you?"

Prince Noctis shrugged his shoulders and looked to Ignis for guidance, but the other man was busy looking at Pelna.

"Are you quite alright?"

"Just peachy," the Glaive mumbled, finally managing to get himself to his feet. "Warping's been touchy since..." Pelna's eyes darted toward the Prince. "Your Highness..."

The Prince's mouth formed a straight line. "Go ahead."

"Since last week, with the Wall."

Nyx noticed it as well— the whole Kingsglaive had. The magic that came to them like blood in their veins was more glitchy than usual. It didn't happen often, only in times of duress... but Nyx knew what it meant.

Noctis seemed to, too. His eyes tracked down and Nyx was reminded more of a vulnerable boy...

Ignis was the one to reply. "I assure you that there is nothing to worry of—your magic should be as it should very soon. However, that is not why we're here."

Crowe came to her feet, helping Libertus with his crutches. "Your Highness..." She pushed a crutch under Libertus's right arm and allowed the man to use her to help balance as he took care of the other, "if that isn't why you're here..."

Ignis swept his hands over his suit, though Nyx was quick to notice that the gloves he usually wore were missing. In there place was a rope of nasty looking white scars scaling through the skin of his palms.

Huh. No wonder he wore the gloves.

The Chamberlain pushed the car keys into his pocket and stood before Nyx, assessing him with a coldness that made Nyx feel like a hive of angry bees was under the surface. Though it had only been a few times he had seen the brown-haired man, never even too close, he had never sensed the uneasiness... the swarming.

"Ulric. It has come to my attention that you have a peculiar weapon in your possession. Your Kukris, please." Ignis looked him in the eye and held out his hand, palm up. "I assure you I will return them. I merely need to see them."

A royal entourage for his kukris?

"Sir..."

"You may call me Ignis," Ignis responded with a roll of his shoulder, a frown line creasing across his forehead.

"Sir," Nyx repeated, looking skittishly between Libertus and Crowe who were both staring at him. "I can't do that, Sir."

Noctis crossed his arms in front of him. "And why is that?"

There was an itch at Nyx's temple and he had to curl his fingers into the fabric at the base of his spine to stop himself from scratching.

"Your Highness," Libertus said slowly, wincing as he moved away from Crowe, "We're from Galahd."

There was a pause; Noctis and Ignis shared a look that made Nyx swallow.

"Usually people at least buy me a drink before asking to see my swords," Nyx joked, but even though the words were light, there was a feel to them that he hoped the other men would understand.

"Ah, yes. My apologies... Galahdian tradition dictates that weapons can not be freely given to those who haven't earned them in combat." The words sounded almost like an insult on the Chamberlain's tongue, but Nyx couldn't do anything other than give a small shrug.

Nyx's father's words rang through his head, the way he had placed the kukri in his hand when he was nothing but a straggly little boy with dusty boots and a dream. Don't let no one take 'em. Make 'em earn it, Nyx. It was better to get his balls chopped off than willingly hand off his kukris to someone without a little blood drawn, no matter their station.

It was one of the few things that the Kingsglaive had been understanding of when they started letting Galahdians into their ranks. Even Drautos had never asked for weapons.

"Sorry, Sir. No can do. Well, unless you want to cut them out of my hands..."

"That can be arranged."

Nyx laughed in response.

Ignis blinked at him and his cold, calculating eyes pinched a nerve inside Nyx. The way the man was looking at him, almost staring straight through him, made the little hairs on Nyx's arms stand at attention. Then he rolled his shoulders and held out his hands.

"So be it."

Nyx hadn't expected it; like a viper striking out, Ignis was there one moment and suddenly he was moving with a lethal precision that made Nyx nearly jump out of his skin. He pulled his Kukris from the ether, throwing one into the nearby stone column Pelna had fallen from not a few minutes before.

He felt his body fall to pieces and reemerge several meters up, the blood rushing through his ears as he grabbed the stone with his other hand, scrambling for something to catch on.

"Ignis!" the Prince yelled, "the hell are you doing?"

Nyx wanted to yell the same thing, but due to his precarious position perched on the column he was only left with summoning his other Kukri.

He quickly assessed his field of vision, noting the commotion near the car as the Prince went after his Chamberlain. There was a flash of blue next to his head and Nyx reeled back, hissing as he felt the tip of his ear blossom into a wash of pain.

He quickly turned to the dagger, noting the royal insignia on the pommel and the blue stone glittering with the Crystal's magic.

Fuck. Scientia wasn't playing.

Knowing that, Nyx summoned his other dagger, tossing it into the wall near the commotion, warping through the other Kingsglaive toward the brunet.

Pride.

What a price.

The clang of his dagger on the stone was like music to his ears. Nyx threw his other arm up, allowing his kukri to take the blow from Scientia's next throw.

They had never sparred against one another, but Nyx knew that Scientia had trained with the Crownsguard. Despite the occasional sparring between the two different factions of the military, Nyx knew that the only different was that the Kingsglaive fed directly on the magic of the Crystal. The Crownsguard lacked magic, except for those in the inner elite squad. There weren't many, but...

And yet Scientia's dagger shattered the silence as it warped through the air and out of the wall, back into its master's hand.

So, he had magic, too... But...

It didn't feel like the magic Nyx knew. This magic was something else. It felt different, it felt wrong. Not even in the way Gladio Amicitia's magic felt the few times they had sparred.

But there wasn't time for Nyx to think too much on it as another blow came at him, straight for the throat.

"Whoa, whoa," Nyx yelled as he smacked away the dagger. He was quick in parrying the next, though he noticed that Ignis himself had taken a step back. The blue magic rippled and Nyx tightened his grip on his weapons.

Even if he hadn't spent much time watching the Crownsguard fight... this wasn't how they trained people with daggers. Not even the Kingsglaive and their magic fought like Ignis.

There was something feral in the way the man stalked around him, a cat with peerless eyes. It didn't even seem like he was looking at Nyx as he threw out his dagger and pulled it back, using his daggers more like the streamers in the wind. When one went out he pulled the other back in as he circled, around and around without pause.

"Can we talk about it?" Nyx laughed, though he could feel the blood dripping down from his ear. It tasted like metal and ash.

"Galahdian tradition requires a battle."

"Not to the death, buddy."

His kukri smashed into another of Ignis's daggers, sending it flyingg back into the ether. Nyx could tell that there was something in the way Ignis stared at the space behind his head, but he didn't expect what would happen next.

Ignis's mouth quirked and suddenly it was no longer a daggers fight. The long lance snapped into his palm as the daggers shimmered out of existence.

Nyx barely had a moment to react as he pulled on the dregs of the magic in him. He managed to form a splintering wall of light between him and the tip of the lance, but it fell to pieces with just the slightest nudge.

Shit. Defensive magic had never been his strongest suit and coupled with the battle he had fought earlier in the week...

Nyx pulled at the magic again as he swerved. It was always easier for him to hold it in smaller sections rather than the full shield, covering his arm in the white magic. It was quick enough to deflect the next jab, but he could see it wavering already.

He wasn't going to be able to last for long like this, still weakened from before. And despite what little Nyx knew about the Crownsguard and their way of fighting and training, whatever Ignis Scientia was doing now was certainly not that.

Others were quickly gathering in the court to see what the commotion was. Little vultures.

This was going to end in a lot of wounded pride.

Nyx wiped some of the blood from his face with the back of his arm. Watching Ignis move wasn't any help to him—though he clearly couldn't warp, there was something in the way the man moved, swinging his lance with certainty to where Nyx had planned to move. When Nyx moved Ignis was two steps ahead.

"What're you, a mind reader?"

"Your feet," Ignis responded, only a little huff in his breath to show that there was any exertion at all. "They talk loud enough."

Nyx resisted the urge to look down at his boots, instead using the last of the energy of his cracking shield to drive away the lance when it appeared just where Nyx had been ready to move.

There wasn't going to be getting out of this one. Not if he was half as bad off as he felt, and definitely not with the way Scientia was looking down at him as though he were an insect that needed to be pinned to a cork board.

"No feet then," Nyx yelled as he threw his kukri into the building behind Ignis's head. As he warped he used his other kukri to stab at his opponent. If he was going to lose, it was better for him to lose with a little blood to show for it.

He did manage to nick Ignis's shoulder with the tip of his blade, but Ignis had gotten one better. Even though he was still only half-formed through the blue magic, Nyx fell when the blunt end of his lance stabbed right into his stomach.

Nyx hit the ground with a thud and a groan, rolling over onto his side.

"Ow, fuck. I yield." Nyx grabbed at his stomach, fighting the urge to copy Pelna's actions before and lose his lunch all over the compound. He couldn't help but to scrunch his eyes closed as he winced. Someone to the side—sounded like Luche—yelled something about losing twenty gil, but Nyx was a little preoccupied with something tickling at the side of his neck.

"I already yielded."

"I'm aware."

Nyx opened his eye and looked down to where the sharp tip rested against his throat. Looking down at the angle made him feel like he was going to go cross-eyed, and instead he looked up toward the Chamberlain.

There was just a touch of a cut on his shoulder, a hole in his black blazer that showed blood turning his shirt pink at the frayed edges.

"Then you can put that away."

Ignis regarded him again. Those eyes... they really were cold. After another moment passes and someone wolf-whistled, the younger man made a small motion with his hand. The lance fell back into the ether and the smell of his magic, the peculiar heaviness that felt like something broken, disappeared with it.

For a moment the small crowd died down and the ringing in his ears from the magic subsided. And in that moment all Nyx could do was look up at the man above him, regarding him as though it were the first time.

In that moment there were a few choices Nyx could have made. He could have summoned his kukris and resumed the fight. He could have just laid back and rolled with it. Getting his ass randomly handed to him wasn't a daily occurrence, after all.

But Ignis seemed to make the decision for him, offering him one of his scarred hands.

"Next time I'll simply buy you that drink."

Nyx blinked and then, once the words had sunk in, laughed as he accepted the Chamberlain's hand.

The spot on his stomach where Ignis had caught him burned, but Nyx did his best to hide the pain. He pushed his right palm down into his stomach and used the other to wipe away the trickle of blood still seeping from the cut on his ear.

"Noctis, do you have a potion in the car?"

"Yeah, I'll get one from the dash."

Nyx went to shake his head, but Ignis held up his hand, placing it on his shoulder.

"The Prince doesn't need to give me a potion. I've had worse drinking in Sector D."

"Be that as it may," the man responded, "I would rather not leave a member of the Kingsglaive with a broken rib due to old sparring traditions."

Nyx snorted and looked over to Crowe and Libertus, as well as the other few Kingsglaive who had managed to catch the tail end of the fight.

"And we are in an abundance of potions."

At that Nyx looked to the Prince and the small bottle he held up between his fingers. The container was purple, a behemoth's face twisted in a snarl across the surface of the label.

"That's not a potion. That's sugar water... Your Highness."

But Noctis blinked at him the same way Ignis had, and Nyx wondered if it was having grown up together had given the two some of the similar mannerisms. Who had that one first?

The Prince only shook the can, letting a his fingers play with the metal opener for a moment before cracking it open. The drink sizzled and a little popped out onto the Prince's hand. He allowed his fingers to trail over the lip of the can, a shimmer of blue drifting down into the drink.

"And now it's a potion."

He handed the drink over to Nyx, who looked down into the hole in the metal.

"It doesn't taste bad. Just chug it."

Nyx shared a look with Crowe, then to Libertus, before returning his glance to the Prince.

"Is that an order, Your Highness?"

"Do you really need me to make it one?"

Nyx pushed his stomach as he lifted the can to his lips and took an experimental taste.

The syrupy consistency and the niggling pain in his stomach nearly made him wretch, but Nyx managed to swallow down a few mouthfuls before pulling away, handing off the drink to Libertus. Considering the mess that was Libertus's leg after the last battle, if the potion was good enough it could at least help with some of the recovery time.

"You drink the rest," he commented as he fought back the urge to regurgitate energy drink and magic all over the ground. "Disgusting."

"Guess you didn't grow up with these," Noctis commented. There was a hint of laughter in his words.

"Farmer boy," he fired back. "We don't drink sugar where I come from." But sugar or no, Nyx could feel the magic working under his skin as the damage from taking the end of the lance to the gut had caused. But more than that, Nyx noticed the feeling of some of the wounds from his previous battle melting away. When he lifted his hand to his ear the skin had already completely knitted back. "That was quick."

"The potions I believe you use typically come from your own." Ignis looked at Crowe for confirmation.

"We have some elixirs from the King, but we don't use them too often."

Ignis and the Prince shared a look that went unnoticed by most of the others, but Nyx noticed. And from the knitting of her eyebrows he was pretty sure Crowe had, too.

"We should take care to supply more curatives to the Glaive. We wouldn't want you to suffer any further undue burden." There was something stilted in the response and Nyx wondered if a Chamberlain to the Prince really had the right to be promising things like that...

"I think we'll survive. And you did buy me that drink and I'm nothing if not a man of my word." Nyx let go of his side and slowly pulled both of his kukris from the ether, showing both sides to the man. "Why do you need them anyway?"

Ignis looked down to the kukris and slowly, deliberately, closed his eyes as he reached out to take them from his hands. He was gentle with them, the pads of his fingers running over the metal as though he already knew what it was and how they felt...

Which didn't make sense. Not to Nyx.

Those were his weapons. He hadn't ever let anyone who he hadn't fought with touch them, and yet the way Ignis ran his nail across the inscription on the side, the little nick on the pommel, even the way he balanced the kukris in his hand...

Ignis Scientia knew his weapons and Nyx did not like that.

"I needed to be sure of something. Glaive Ulric, I will need you to come with Prince Noctis and I to the Citadel. We require your assistance." With that, Ignis popped the kukris in his palms and held them out flat for Nyx to take.

"I'm not sure how much help I'll be," he responded, "but I'll come. Your Highness." He bowed deferentially to the younger man who only waved it off with a half-hearted shrug.

Ignis looked back at Pelna who had managed to pull himself together, and there was something in the man's eyes that made Nyx tense for a moment before Pelna reached out to shake his hand.

"Marilynn loves the bassinet, y'know. Thank you for that."

This was the first time Nyx had heard anything about this, and for a moment it seemed as though it was the first time Ignis has heard of it as well. But then, like a light, something of a shadow crossed Ignis's face.

"Is she faring well?" His voice was soft, uncertain. Maybe there was something soft inside that guy, but it must have been down deep. Still, Pelna's wife Marilynn tended to have that affect on people...

Pelna laughed, "Barely. She keeps trying to cook and clean. I even found her trying to use that book you gave her to make dinner, but... you know how she can be. I think she keeps calling it nesting."

"She knows she's not a bird, right?" Noctis responded, but raised his arms in defense at the look from both the men. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."

It was the strangest thing Nyx could remember ever happening in the courtyard of the compound. He almost wanted to ask a question, to just confirm exactly what he was hearing, but it felt like he was spying in on something very personal that certainly had nothing to do with him.

Marilynn was a topic that didn't come up often. Considering it nearly cost Pelna his skull (literally and figuratively) it hadn't exactly been a soft topic to talk about while drinking.

But that was just part of being a Glaive. Just like Pelna didn't talk about his pregnant wife, Nyx didn't talk about his dead sister.

There were reasons people joined the Glaive... and that was usually enough of an answer.

"While I would love to chat about how awful Mari's cooking is..." Nyx shuffled, "You said you needed me to come with you to the Citadel. Why?"

Ignis looked him up and down for a moment and then reached into his pocket, pulling out the keys. "We will inform you when we arrive."

"This isn't exactly cloak and dagger."

Ignis smiled, the whites of his teeth making Nyx feel a little more uncomfortable than he cared to admit to himself.

"I'm well aware. But what you'll be doing will be."

Nyx raised an eyebrow as Ignis gestured to the car.

"We'll be more than happy to tell you of your assignment when we arrive at the Citadel."

* * *

Why did Ignis go for fighting immediately? Well, I think that it was both a way of showing Noctis that he really, truly was different due to the Crystal. His entire fighting style changed after he was blinded, right down to the way he used his daggers.

It was also a way of showing off a little bit of power to the other Glaive; there's a lot of shuffling of power and assumptions that the King and Noctis are weak and so is the Crownsguard. We (and Ignis) know that there are traitors in the Glaive, but there may be some of them who haven't blown over.

You'll also notice that this particular scene was slipped into something that originally occurred in Kingsglaive. However... There is no announcement that King Regis has agreed to the surrender. There isn't going to be a surrender.

But... we'll get to that soon enough.

I hope you guys liked my look into Nyx's character. I'm still getting a feel for him. He's not half as tortured as Ignis is, so writing him tends to be quick and a bit dirty. My word choice is a little more loose and he likes fighting like the best of them, haha.

Next chapter: Nyx prepares for infiltration of Tenebrae. Ignis and Noctis get a moment alone. Someone calls Gladio and Prompto.

 **Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

The Citadel was far more quiet than Ignis could remember it being throughout his childhood. It was a peculiar realization that made the hairs on the backs of his arms stand straight up. The little niggling feeling of dread, of something watching him, returned the moment he stepped through the towering doors. But the silence remained.

And now knowing that the Crystal lurked just beyond, always listening and forever casting its ethereal glow...

He should have noticed it as a little boy. He should have realized that there had always been something lurking. It shouldn't have taken the Omen to have realized that there had always been something there... slinking through his mind, feeding.

The thought made Ignis swallow. Hard.

They were quick in heading toward the King's Inner Chambers, the Glaive following behind with a slowness that Ignis could tell was somewhere between confusion and suspicion. The man had every right to feel that way; it wasn't every day that a member of the Royal Crownsguard and personal Chamberlain to the Crown Prince himself exchanged pedantic Galahdian traditional fighting just to lay eyes on a weapon.

But the price had been worth it. Ignis had carried around one of the Kukri for ten years in a world of unending night. The other, nestled in the ruins of the once beautiful Insomnia, had been been him for a much shorter time. Yet... it had been a weapon that Ignis had quickly adapted himself to use. It had been a perfect mix of weight and power, and it had gone seamlessly into the Armiger.

When Noctis had died... Ignis could remember the feeling of the smooth hilt of the weapon disintegrating in his hands.

It hadn't even been hours, and yet for Ignis it could have been a lifetime ago. And in each second it felt like the weight was pushing further into his stomach, a weight that had blossomed through his chest... The pain would never fade away, just like Ignis knew that he didn't want it to go. If it left him, if he dared to forget what the Omen of the Stars had told him...

He would not forget Noctis.

This was for Noctis. Only Noctis.

Ignis turned his head to the side, seeing Noctis next to him, trying to hide the way he was discreetly looking at Ignis. Had it been before, had it been when they had first set out all those long years ago, Ignis knew he would have made some kind of comment to Noctis to try and rouse him from his own wandering thoughts. Yet now...

He wondered if Noctis was thinking of the same things he was. He wondered if Noctis could understand...

He had hoped the battle would have shown Noctis through actions rather than just words what he said was the truth. Noctis had watched him fight, had sparred with him and against him and beside him enough times to be well acquainted with the way he fought. If Ignis could remember clearly, though it was still difficult to pull the pieces apart at times, he had been connected to the Arsenal for years. Their magic coalesced in ways that had baffled Ignis at first. Yet it had always been that way, and so Ignis had never once questioned why he could pull magic from nothingness the way Regis himself could.

Noctis... Noctis had never been so in tune with the magic, at least not in the same manner. He had perfected the Armiger, had taken in the weapons of his long-deceased ancestors who had given their lives in a constant battle of sadness and misery. Yet his magic...

It made sense, now. If it were true, if the Crystal had bonded to Ignis as a young boy...

He could understand why the sparks came to his hand, how they licked and caressed at his skin in a way that had always felt so right and yet so very wrong. And he could understand some of the terror inside Noctis, because not knowing would have almost have been better.

Noctis had the right to be scared, to be confused. Ignis himself could barely hold himself together. But despite this, Ignis could see it in the way his lover would occasionally turn toward him, as though he were readying himself to say something. Anything.

And then Noctis would clamp down his hands and shake his head so softly that Ignis could have believed it was a trick of the light if not for the weariness in his blue eyes.

The entire day had been more than Ignis could bear, and he wanted to be back in Noct's rooms or in their apartment again with just Noctis around him. Yet at every turn, every moment where he thought he would have a moment to speak with Noct, something else pulled him in. Ever pressing duties, requirements, obligations.

The trip to pick up the Glaive had been just so that Ignis could hear himself think, even for just a moment. And even though the ride there had been silent, the sound of the Regalia had almost made Ignis weep. He hadn't driven her since... Since Altissia. Since the Wall of Water.

Since his blindness.

He could have taken that moment to explain to Noctis, to tell him of his blindness, of the loss of his sight, but... it was almost trivial in comparison to what Noctis had lost.

The darkness may have taken his sight, but Ignis had never lost his heart. He had never lost his life.

He knew that Noctis would never brand him weak, but the thought of Noctis knowing all of what had transpired made Ignis feel like a powerless rag doll. He had been that once, but not again. He could not be powerless, a feckless infant in the eyes of the Prophecy. But he would tell Noctis anything, because Noctis deserved it.

And the Prophecy would never hurt Noctis.

Not if he were to stop it. Not if he were to end it, to figure out how to break the Crystal's Omen.

Ignis caught sight of the Glaive again as they rounded the corner into one of the side rooms, passing by members of the Crownsguard who seemed poised to ask questions. Thankfully whatever his face said was enough to not need words.

The Glaive... Ignis hoped that it was true that the Ring had accepted the man before him as worthy of the power of the Lucii... even if he had perished.

It was a terrible thought that Ignis had to fight against, but it took all of him not to grab the Glaive by the back of the neck and throw him in front of the King, to rip the ring off his aching hand and force it onto Nyx Ulric. Damn the responsibility of the line of Lucis Caelum. Damn Ardyn for failing to end the Scourge. Damn Bahamut and the other Astrals for bringing the Crystal and the Ring to Eos and presenting it like a poisoned chalice to a man dying of thirst in the desert.

Ignis didn't care about the Glaive's life; it was cold, perhaps, but Ignis had lived in a world without sun for ten long years. He had grown used to the cold.

Ignis stopped in front of the door into King Regis's private quarters, surveying the two guards stationed out front. They were members of the Crownsguard; Ignis couldn't place their names, but their faces looked vaguely familiar. It was not enough to trust them, but... The King could hardly dismiss them, not without causing more attention.

The man on the right rapped his knuckles across the door before stepping away.

"Your Highness. His Majesty awaits."

The door opened and a harried Clarus took his position in front of the three.

"That took longer than expected," the man remarked. There was a pointedness to his words that reminded Ignis of his son so sharply that it nearly took away his breath. He sounded just as Gladio had. "And you look half dead on your feet."

"Apologies. There were matters that needed attending to." Ignis chose not to respond to the second half, though he did notice the Shield staring at the hole in his shirt.

"A pissing contest," Noctis said. "Real impressive."

"As if I would have been anything less."

Clarus said nothing, instead moving to the side with a sweeping of his arms, his gold and black Shield uniform clinking against the metal door.

Noctis went in first, followed by Ignis. Nyx Ulric followed behind and bent in deference to Regis.

"Rise, Nyx Ulric. You are here for a very special purpose. Clarus, the door."

When Clarus shut the door he turned and braced himself against it. For Ignis it had been a welcome relief, but he was sure that the Glaive was more than a little uncomfortable. From the way he quickly assessed the King's Inner Chambers, it was clear he was looking for a way to escape if things went south.

It wasn't the first time Ignis had been inside the King's Inner Chambers, though it was like looking through a glass. The other side was the same and yet looked so different, though Ignis couldn't tell just how.

Regis sat at a table lined with a map, the edges frayed and warped. Ignis had to wonder how many times the man had sat at that very table with the map of the Tenebrae lands, letting the pads of his fingers work against the paper until the ink had faded.

Their continued talk had mentioned her, and Ignis had been sure that Regis had withdrawn breath too quickly when Ignis mentioned her fate and her ties to the dawn. Of course, it came as no shock, but the pain of her death had been enough to shake something in the King.

Lady Lunafreya...

Ignis allowed his face to go slack. Thinking of Lady Lunafreya always brought him back to the water, always back to the bleeding seas and the screaming while Noctis lay dying. He could remember her dress stained with black as she slipped into the water.

Then the searing pain as his eyes burned.

She had done her duty well, had fulfilled her destiny. And yet there was the never-ending question of **why**. Why had she kept it secret? Why had she given Noctis the ring and yet never told him of the fate that would be forced for him to bear like a crown of thorns? Both she and Regis owed Noctis the truth, and if Ignis could change the stars, then he would very well force them...

There was so much Noctis did not know.

And part of Ignis now knew just what they may have felt, wanting to conceal the cruelty from Noctis. But Ignis knew better; he knew Noctis in a way that they did not. And in the ten years of silence, in uncovering every line he could of the immortal Accursed... Ignis had know with more fierceness than ever that Noctis deserved the truth. She owed that to him.

And the shattered man who had emerged from the Crystal... Ignis would never let that happen again. He would not let it.

"Please, have a seat. We'll be here for a while yet." The King gestured to the leather chairs, Noctis already picking one to plop himself down in. He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, looking down at the map.

"Your Majesty—"

"You as well, Ulric."

Ignis took the seat closest to Noctis, leaning over to see the red lines traced over the paper. He looked to the fresh marks, ignoring the others. As far as he was aware, Regis had never once tried to bring those plans into fruition.

The Glaive looked at the other chair on the opposing side before sitting straight-backed and uncomfortable.

"Glaive Ulric, what is spoken of this day does not leave this room. Do you understand?"

"Your Majesty—"

"This can not be spoken of to anyone. Not your fellow Glaive, your friends, nor your Captain." Regis's green eyes stared forward at the man, and Ignis could see the scars at his left temple flare red for just a moment. "It is of grave importance. You... you are the only one I can trust in this matter."

The Glaive looked to Ignis then. "Does this have something to do with my Kukris, Your Majesty?"

"Would you accept my answer and not question it?"

The man nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

Ignis looked at Regis. "The Kukris were of less import than knowing that you can wield them appropriately," the King lied. "Though you are of my Glaive, Ignis is considered an important member of the Crownsguard. If you could handle yourself in an impromptu battle against him, then I believe you will be able to handle anything that may come to pass during your journey."

"Journey?"

Noctis reached out, sliding his boot under him as he inspected the maps. "Tenebrae... Luna?" He blinked at the paper, reaching out to let the tips of his finger touch the red slash across a wilderness of trees and greenery.

"Princess Lunafreya? As in the Oracle, Your Majesty?" Ulric asked.

"One in the same. There is something underfoot occurring with Niflheim—the battle at the Wall earlier in the week was proof of that."

Ignis did not remember much of the battle—only that it had rattled Regis enough to consider the treaty an option of some sort. But Cid's words rang in Ignis's ears long after they had been spoken...

Lucis had been dealt a losing hand, and Regis had done his best with the cards he had. But those cards had been _people_. It was no wonder the Kingsglaive had turned on him in their moment of grief, particularly with Drautos at the helm. It would be something Ignis knew they would need to take care of in the near future, but he still had no idea how.

Even knowing bits and pieces hadn't been enough. Ignis wished that he had tried to piece together more about the time between when he pulled Noctis from the sheets of his bed and when the call came from Cor about the fall.

Yet there were no restarts, and they would make do the best they could. And if Lady Lunafreya not being a tactical pawn (and perhaps removing Ravus from the equation as well—before losing an arm) would help... Ignis was willing to push back his questions. At least until she was there, until he could stand before her and ask her the questions that had plagued him like the falling ash.

 _Why did you let him die?_

Ignis removed himself from the thoughts and looked to Noctis.

There was something on his face, a deepness that Ignis only ever saw when he was thinking of Lady Lunafreya.

She had always been... she had always been Noctis's burden. He had blamed himself for her capture, blamed himself for him living tucked away within Insomnia's Walls while she suffered.

It was unfair to her, Ignis knew. It was no fault of her own that Niflheim had attacked her home and killed her mother, imprisoning her and her brother. He felt nothing but pity for her in that regard, a caged bird only left to sing sweet, mournful tunes through the metal bars of her tomb. The only freedom afforded to her had been that of her duties as Oracle... The duties that had led to Noctis pinned to the throne...

The same duties that had led her to her death.

And yet she was nothing but a constant reminder to Noctis of the calling of the Crystal, a calling that Ignis now knew as a sweet siren's song into the inky void.

 _How much did she know?_

In the ten years of darkness, Ignis had searched high and low for anything of Lunafreya. The book that she and Noctis had wrote in as children had disappeared—none knew where it had gone. He had searched the Arsenal for it, but never felt it. The damage to Tenebrae's castle had been massive, but even after the fires stopped burning the number of daemons that had taken to calling the dusting of trees against the mountainous ranges of the sylleblossom-spotted land had made the trip perilous.

He had gone with Prompto and Aranea that single time, searching for a lock of hair, a teardrop, a book of stamps where she may have licked the back or sliced her finger. The scientists could have used that to fashion something of the Oracle, something to bring back the dawn or at least fight back against the tidal wave of daemons purged from the ground.

But all Ignis had found was the charred remnants of a long-dead castle, the foliage rotting through the stone.

Nature had taken Tenebrae back.

They had left it as it belonged.

But still...

"You're going to rescue Luna."

"Not I, Noctis. Glaive Ulric will be charged with her care."

Noctis blinked and frowned, looking at the man. "They're not going to let her go without a fight. One Glaive against the entire empire? Not happening. Not without Luna getting hurt."

Ignis noticed the way Nyx's shoulders stiffened.

"No offense," Noctis added, though it was clear from his baleful expression that he certainly did not care if offense was taken or not. "But a solo Glaive to save Luna sounds like a suicide mission."

"Your Highness, I take my duty seriously." Ignis wondered if the Glaive was aware at how impolite his tone was, but he stopped himself from interrupting. "If His Majesty wants Princess Lunafreya, then I will get her."

"I have no doubt of that. You are perhaps one of the best of my Glaive. Noctis, I know you care for Luna... but if what we know is true, leaving her with them will only cause more strife... and I cannot send a fleet."

The entire Wall had come down in the vain hopes to protect her. It had come down when it could have stayed... when it could have nestled them safely within the Walls, at least for a little longer.

Even if Ardyn was knocking on the Wall with his bare fists, this time Ignis was sure that he would not be getting in... Not in the way he wanted to. Not without Ignis ripping him apart with his own bare hands.

And yet even then Ignis knew that what he wanted to do with Ardyn was impossible; wishful thinking, dark dreams of destruction and devastation. What he had done to Not, what he had done to Eos... the husk of the planet, the frightened populace, his burning home...

Noctis, locked inside of a Crystal, never to escape.

There would be no pity.

Not from him.

"I want to go with him."

"Absolutely not. After Glaive Ulric takes his leave we will begin processes for containment."

Ignis looked to Regis, then to Clarus. The stern resolve across their brows was steely in its resolve. "Then we will not surrender."

"You're thinking about a siege—" Noctis responded, "but that isn't going to work. Not this time. Not with what's going on." He reached up and pulled at an unruly bit of his hair, a bad habit that Ignis had known he had never been able to break from the Prince.

"Your Majesty," Nyx interrupted, "I think I'm missing something. What's going on?" He repeated Noctis's words back.

Regis peered up to the Glaive with pale green eyes. A few of the hairs rubbed against his lips as he looked to form his words. "There... there is a matter of the highest national security, Nyx Ulric." His tongue darted out to touch his bottom lip. He did not look nervous, but Ignis could still see the hint of a tremor in his hand. "There are those within the Kingsglaive who we have knowledge are planning an assault against the city within the fortnight."

"A... a traitor." The Glaive stood, pushing back from his chair. The leather chair clunked against the floor below with a deep sound that set Ignis's teeth on edge.

Nyx forced himself to his knee, refusing to look up. "Are you certain?"

He should not have made this request of the King, not even in the candor of the King's Inner Chambers.

Ignis could not fault him. The shock of finding out about Drautos had left a heave weight on Ignis long after his meeting with Libertus and a handful of the other Glaive who had remained loyal. One had even mentioned having seen Marilynn within a throng of refugees heading for Altissia after the Wall had fallen.

In the ten years of darkness, he had heard... nothing.

One of the millions lost to the Scourge, the Daemons, or the water.

"Unfortunately so. We have been given irrefutable proof to some of those involved in the treachery."

The air was tense, thick like the rolling ache in Ignis's stomach.

"Then... I'll go to Tenebrae. I'll bring back Princess Lunafreya."

"I will be in your debt, Nyx Ulric." Regis looked to Noctis then, rubbing his palms together. "Have you sent Luna a response in your notebook?"

Noctis picked at his nail, a flush to his cheeks. "No. Not yet. I was gunna do it today. I... I can tell her about this."

"Please. Tell her she must not be caught. Pack nothing and have Gentiana bar the door. This may be our only chance to secure her passage. Clarus, get Ulric everything he'll need for the journey."

Ignis interrupted then. "Your Majesty, I think it would be best if you link him to your Arsenal. Getting information back and forth without a secure phone line would be a challenge... The Arsenal would allow them access to whatever they need and unmitigated safety."

"We used to send notes through the Arsenal. It's faster and Niflheim won't be able to infiltrate it."

Regis looked at his son. "I can only imagine the kind of chaos you have caused with that knowledge."

Noctis shrugged. "You telling me you never tried it out?"

Ignis remembered the scraps of letters he had pulled from the ether and how he had wept over them, unable to read the words. Prompto had offered once to read them, but Ignis had only curled his fingers against the paper and smelled them. He could almost pretend like he could smell Noctis's cologne on the pages.

Regis did not respond, though there was a small smile pulling at his lips. "Then we have it, Nyx Ulric. It would make you an official member of the Crownsguard. Would you be willing to enter into the bond?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good. We'll see it done."

The rest of the meeting was short, only filling in what little Regis thought that Nyx would need to know of how best to secure passage through Lucis.

"First, head to Hammerhead. Cid will be able to fit you with anything you may need for your vehicle; we can't send you with an Insomnia-made car. You'll attract far too much attention."

Ignis had been able to impart some of the knowledge of the Havens spread across the map, marking down in particular a shack on the outskirts of the Three Valleys.

"You'll find a hunter here named Dave. Give him a potion and help him to the Hunter's outpost in Longwythe. He may be willing to help you on your journey to Cape Caem. If anyone is to ask, you are a Hunter from Galahd, traveling to find a loved one. Board a ship to Altissia; when you arrive, Immigration will request your paperwork. The King will make sure to put one in before you arrive. If you receive any trouble, tell them you are there to learn Altissian culinary crafts under Weskham Armaugh."

They tracked across the map, Ignis pointing to locations, circling them with a blue marker. "Take the train here; it will only take a day or so to cross through to Tenebrae. I... I cannot help you further with Tenebrae except to tell you those who are employed to the Nox Fleurets will protect Lady Lunafreya, though not at the cost of her brother's health. Be careful with whom you trust."

And…

"There is a man you must avoid at all costs. His name is Ardyn Izunia. If you meet him on your travels, find a way to escape. Do not let Lady Lunafreya near him. I... I do not know if he will harm her now, but I can say for certain that his intentions are not welcome."

 _And do not trust Gentiana_ , Ignis wanted to tell him, but knew better. Gentiana, whose ice had destroyed the Infernian... whose ice had nearly killed him.

Gentiana, one of the Astrals, whose connection to the Crystal and Noct's life...

He would never trust her, no matter what Ardyn said of her fondness for humanity.

But he said nothing, and allowed excused himself when Regis and Clarus began the simple ceremony to give Nyx the powers of the Arsenal. Noctis excused himself as well, pushing his hands into his pockets as he told Regis and Nyx that he would head back to his apartment to get the book so that he could write to Lunafreya. He had wavered there for a moment before offering his hand to Nyx, who accepted the Prince's hand in a firm shake.

"Make sure she's safe. She's... she's been through enough."

They all had been through enough.

Ignis had wanted to go with him, but when he asked Noctis shook his head twice.

"Can I... can I do this on my own? I just... I need some time."

Some time to think. Some time to ponder what had happened that day. Some time away from Ignis.

It had stung, but Ignis had understood.

He wanted to kiss him there, standing in the King's Inner Chambers in front of Regis, Clarus and the Glaive. After having lived in a world without Noctis for ten years all he wanted to do was curl up with him and drown in the other man. But he knew what Noctis needed, and in that moment what he needed was a moment to breathe, to try and put some of the pieces down and to understand the puzzle that was before them.

So Ignis stayed at the castle, wandering the lobby and the chambers. He found his feet carrying him back toward the old library he had spent many sleepless nights curled in the dusty brown leather seats, two other three books propped on his lap as he explored places and people of long before. The smell of the parchment, the feather-light touch of the bindings, the way the paper felt in his hands... thousands of years of history that he had never managed to read all the way through. He had always imagined that there would be time in the future, but...

 **Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt.**

Ignis reached down and pulled his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket, looking at the small message that was truncated for length.

 _Iggy what's going on? My dad called and he's got Iris locked up in the house. She really pissed off and getting on my las—_

Ignis swiped his finger across the message, continuing to read.

 _—t nerve. He said something happened this morning but won't go into detail. You still at the Citadel?_

Ignis tapped out a quick reply.

 _I'm still here. Something happened this morning. It would be best if we spoke in person. Can you come by?_

 _No go. Dad told me to stay put. There's a lot of commotion going on. Heard some top Niff came to see the King today._

 _Yes_.

 _And?_

 _Wait for your father. He'll fill in some of the details. Can you and Prompto come by Noct's apartment at dawn?_

 _Oh, man. Now I know it's big. You want us to come by when the sun rises?_

Ignis smiled for a moment until the next message came in.

 _You want Noct to die or something?_

Ignis swallowed and typed out a simple, _No._

Gladio didn't notice. _We'll if it's gotta be dawn then I'll drag my ass out there._

Ignis clicked the button on his phone and placed it on the armrest nest to him. He folded his ankle over his knee and leaned back into the chair, ignoring the buzzing from his phone.

Closing his eyes, Ignis listened to the silence. The use of his eyes again after so long has been making his head spin since he picked himself up off the floor of the Throne Room.

It was the first moment to himself since the walk up to Noct's old room... it was the first time he had been left to his thoughts, rather than the constant action that had been required of him.

But now...

What on Eos was he supposed to do?

He had thought about it, what he would have done in this position, over a thousand times as he sat at the campfire, surrounded by the sting of warmth that couldn't warm the impenetrable cold. If he had the chance to change the fate, to change the stars, what would he have done?

And every time it always came back to Noctis. To protecting Noctis. To holding Noctis one more time in his arms. To keeping Noctis away from what tragedies would befall him.

He had dreamed of stringing Ardyn Izunia up and feeding him to the wild beasts that roamed Duscae. He even thought of the words, full of anger and spite, that he would yell at the King and Lady Lunafreya for their actions in leading Noctis down the path to the Dawn.

But now, sitting in the library with the feeling of the Crystal's Omen as a weight against his palms...

Ignis didn't have any idea of what to do next.

So, Ignis waited. He breathed in and out, listening for the sound of the Crystal which called to him, the humming that had begged for him to pay attention when he had yet to know what it was.

But more than that, he waited for the chiming from his phone to let him know when Noctis was ready for him. Noctis, whose entire world had been turned on his head. Noctis, whose questions Ignis would answer with absolute truth, even if it cut him open to tell.

If Noctis asked who had killed him, Ignis knew he would tell the truth.

Ardyn Izunia, a man who wanted death but equally wanted to watch the Lucis Caelum family suffer for their sins. Lady Lunafreya, a woman who had taken him by the hand and led him straight to the waters of the Hydraean's alter without so much as a whisper of what truly laid ahead. King Regis, who had known since Noctis was four that the Gods had both blessed and cursed Noctis to be the Martyr King who would die for their failures...

A man who had lost himself to the daemons. A woman who had lost herself to her duty. A father who had lost himself to his own mourning.

And the Crystal, its hues of pinks and purples that pulsed through the skies like a warning beacon.

And, if Ignis were honest with himself...

Ignis had killed Noctis, too. He should have done better, should have protected him. He could have figured out another way, figured out something that could have been done to bring the dawn without the surrender of Noctis's life. He had deserved so much more than what he had been given. They had deserved a life together as the dawn rose.

How long Ignis sat there, he wasn't sure. His fingers played with the scars on his hands and his eyelids fluttered, but he tried to block out everything but the familiar feelings of the Citadel and the quiet.

When his phone finally rang, he answered quickly.

"Iggy... can you come home?"

"I'll be there shortly."

A whisper of a thank you made Ignis's heart seize in his chest.

It didn't take long to get to his old car, the urge to take the Regalia again being a force he had to actively fight against. He almost laughed when he opened the door to his standard Crownsguard car, seeing the little moogle stuffed animal that Noctis had given him so many years ago hanging from the rearview mirror. An extra set of gloves sat in the dash, the music turned on to a low hum of classic pop music when he slid his keys into the ignition. Even the air freshener reminded Ignis of the way things used to be, how things were now...

In the World of Ruin, everything had smelled of death and decay.

The laugh bubbled up in Ignis's throat and he couldn't control it. It felt like ten years of poison trickling up from the surface and he couldn't control his hands, either, when the smashed into the steering wheel. The blaring of the car horn was a loud screech that barely covered up the sound of Ignis's voice, half twisted laughter and sobs.

It took three songs for Ignis to pull himself together enough to click his seatbelt into place. He felt like he had when he was nineteen again, falling apart and needing Noctis to pull him back together.

Had he learned nothing?

Ignis resisted the urge to shove his feelings into the deep recesses of his mind. Years of doing that had damaged him enough; he was older now. He knew now that the coping mechanisms he had used as a young man had nearly killed him more than once. The guilt, the fear, the constant anger at himself for not being good enough, not being able to do more... it was more than he could bear. He couldn't go back to that time, he couldn't submit to his own pain and terror again.

He managed to get to Noct's apartment building in only a few minutes. Just like when he had sunk into the Regalia's front seat, though he hadn't driven in years it felt like riding a bicycle. His hands turned, his foot moved, and he traversed the roads of Insomnia as the sun began to set. The sky was a blazing fire, perfect reds and blues and the impenetrable fog of pink that he shouldn't have been able to see.

His feet carried him past the doorman and the neighbors who gave him brief waves and pleasantries. He tried his best to smile, but from the looks on their faces he knew he had smiled too wide, his lips too open. But he was tired and all he wanted was for the elevator to take him away and he could be with Noctis.

He waited for the whirring and the sudden drop in his stomach as the elevator pulled him up to the pent house suite he and Noctis had called home. His own home was still in the Citadel—he hadn't bothered to even stop by his chambers since he had everything still at home with Noctis.

Ignis looked at the shiny metal doors, the filigree set into the metal. He could see his own face in the reflection.

He looked ill. It was the only thing that Ignis could clearly make out, despite his perfect sight. It was as if someone had taken a paintbrush to his face, blotting out the contours of his nose and the hollows of his cheeks. All Ignis could do was see the purple under his eyes, the trembling lips, the red painted like thick gloss across his skin. What a right mess he was...

But when the doors opened he was no longer looking at his own face, but instead it was Noctis.

"Hey..."

"Sorry for the wait."

Noctis shook his head and hesitantly reached out a hand into the elevator, palm up. "Don't worry about it. I just, uh, sent Luna a letter. Umbra's gone now."

Ignis didn't reply, instead reaching out for Noctis's hand. It was warm in his hand, so warm...

"Iggy... c'mon, let's get inside."

Ignis let Noctis guide him into the apartment, only letting go of Noctis's hand to pull off his shoes. He dropped the car keys on the counter next to the door and stared out into the apartment. It felt... it felt like walking through the ghost of a memory.

"I made some coffee..."

"Noct, it's well past suppertime."

Noctis scratched his head. "I just... I think we need to talk. You may need the help."

"... thank you."

Noctis minutely nodded and slowly reached out again for Ignis's hand. "I can order you some food if you want. Are you hungry?"

Though Ignis loved cooking, the thought of food made his stomach roll. "Perhaps tomorrow. I don't think I could handle it at the moment."

"Figured. We've got plenty of Cup Noodles stashed, so it shouldn't be too bad if you do."

Cup Noodles. Ignis could have laughed... how long had it been since he had a Cup Noodle?

"Maybe later."

They entered the living room, a cup of coffee set on the table with the milk and sugar bowl next to it, little granules of sugar sticking to the wood from where they spilled over. The spoon was still in the cup and it clanked against the side when Noctis picked it up and handed it to him.

It had been... a long time since Ignis had managed to get a cup of coffee. He savored the feeling of the warm cup on his hands, ignoring the peculiar texture from his scars. The smell was simply divine, and he had to resist the sudden temptation to down the entire cup.

And then Noctis reached out to touch his right cheek, pulling away damp fingers. "Didn't think a cup of coffee would make you cry. I mean, I know I'm a bad cook an' all, but that kinda stings—"

Ignis snorted back his tears. "I am making a fool of myself. My apologies, Noct..." He stared down into the inky black, steaming cup. "I'm sure it'll taste lovely. Not even you can spoil coffee."

"That's good to know..."

Ignis wiped at his eyes with the other hand and slowly sunk down into the couch, Noctis taking the cup from him and putting it back on the table.

"Specs... just take your time." He slid his feet under him and let his shoulder bump into Ignis's arm. "We've got all night."

All night... all night to tell the story of the summer that would never be, of the water, of the burns, of the freezing night and the bitter laughter of the Crystal as Noctis disappeared. The farewell to the sun, the pits of hell he had fought through in blindness.

Noctis returning and then once again saying his goodbyes.

Ignis didn't want to say it, but he did. He filled in everything he could and Noctis sat next to him, listening intently. He only asked a few questions here and there about what had happened, the long drawn out silences between Ignis's answers only tolerable because at some point Noctis had pulled Ignis's head into his lap.

How long they spoke, Ignis couldn't have been certain. What he did know was that he could see the twinkling of the stars and constellations, the moon full and pregnant hanging above them. Noctis's hand was gently caressing its way through his hair, fingertips running across the delicate skin of his forehead and up past his ears and back again. He could feel the teardrops on the back of his neck and felt his own eyes burning.

"Ignis." Noctis leaned down to kiss the spot where his own tear drops had fallen.

Ignis turned his head up to look at Noctis. His face was flushed, eyes rimmed red. There was a stillness to him that made parts of Ignis hurt that he could not express, and he just wanted things to be how they were before.

"I love you."

The words were like a weight lifting off his shoulders, a pain of ten years that had never given him a moment of peace.

Ignis reached up and slowly pulled Noctis down to him, kissing his dry lips. It felt like Noctis was air and Ignis was learning how to breathe.

Their kisses were slow and long and _deep_. Noctis took off Ignis's glasses, placing them on the table, before slowly pulling Ignis to his feet and bringing him to their bedroom.

It felt like home.

Noctis was gentle, and that was exactly what Ingis had needed. The feverish lovemaking of desperation and pain... he didn't want that. It would have reminded him of their last night together in the World of Ruin. He never wanted to feel that again, the way their bodies knew it was a goodbye and tried to take as much as they could.

Instead, Noctis was measured as he removed each piece of clothing from Ignis, making sure to lay him gently in the center of the bed. He kissed along the lines of Ignis's flat stomach and up the curve of his hip, letting his fingers play against the track of pale brown hair that led down his stomach. Every kiss was tempered, every word just what Ignis had so desperately needed.

Noctis did all of the work, which was rather different than usual. Noctis loved to be spoiled in bed, for Ignis to touch him and kiss him until he was a writhing mess in the sheets. But this time Noctis took care to prepare himself and then slotted their bodies together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Ignis pressed himself on his side as Noctis spooned in front of him. He gently lifted Noctis's leg, letting it drape over his thigh as he positioned himself to slip inside.

It was tight and warm and felt like things he had forgotten, just like this day had felt. Every overwhelming moment, every angry thought, every tear—none of it compared to feeling Noctis surrounding him, to kissing Noctis's neck, to breathing in Noctis's cologne, to listening to his soft pants and whispers of Ignis's name.

Ignis slipped his arm under Noctis, throwing the other around him to hold Noctis's hands in his own. The feeling of Noct's fingers scrambling against his slick skin, of his nails against the scars across Ignis's palms... This was what life felt like.

This was why Ignis would fight and kill and move the heavens and earth. Because in that moment as he clung to the vestiges of his hopes, he could open his eyes and see the outline of Noctis. He could feel every shudder and hear every moan.

And he would do anything to keep Noctis whole and safe in his arms.

He would defy the stars for Noctis.

 **Always.**

* * *

Next chapter: Noctis and Ignis talk with Prompto and Gladio, Nyx goes on the hunt for a Princess who does not want to be told what to do.

 **Please Review!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: Mentions of past sexual abuse. The idea comes from the abuse that Luna experienced during her childhood. If you watch the "Dawn" trailer, you can see a moment where someone who looks very familiar is hurting Luna. Nothing is outwardly mentioned, and I will not be going into any massive detail in regards to this. Simply be aware that it occurred.

* * *

"My Lady, I beseech you. Please rest before you injure yourself any further."

Lunafreya turned her head to look at Maria, the matronly woman who had once been her nursemaid so long before. The woman had always been something of a mothering figure to Luna, especially after the demise of her own mother in the ruins of a burning forest smothered in the vales of ash.

Luna looked into her face and could see the softness of age and the ever-present reminder of the past and the future, and all that would come in the present.

It was hard to look at people, sometimes. It was hard to see mouths and smiles, noses and eyes, when their faces held daemons that whispered to her of their hidden songs. She could see the red in their eyes as the souls became twisted and deformed, how not even the gods could look down upon them in their Holy Light. They were Cursed and only she, only her blood and pain and rotting flesh, would heal them of the wounds that penetrated down into their cores.

Luna reached out to rest her hand against Maria's cheek, using the hint of her magic to pull away the daemons that tried their best to reach into the woman and twist her soul into putrefied, black tar.

It hadn't been that way, once upon a time. The lands of Tenebrae had been clean, a bastion in the fear of the coming Apocalypse of disease and death. She could remember those days inside the white towers, surrounded by the Sylleblossoms and the sweet smell of spring that dotted the air. It had been more than just a castle, more than just a building with the slope of the valley below. It was home and it was more breathtaking than any of the pain that she could feel twisting her insides.

"Maria, please take care. Words carry and the air is quite cold tonight." She looked pointedly toward her windowsill, seeing the small bird that had taken residence upon the balcony. The nest had been so unnaturally perfect, so beautifully curled into a circle that Luna had noticed it immediately.

Maria, it seemed, understood all too well.

"Of course, My Lady."

Luna looked out the window, watching the pale purples and hues of oranges and cranberries paint the sky like a fire. Maria was careful in her movements, gently removing Luna's shoes and socks, fluffing the pillows to put behind her head. They both pointedly ignored the black staining the collar of her dress, though Lunafreya could see the fear and pity as the woman helped her pull it over her head. It was just the faintest touch to Maria's face between the moments the silk pulled up across her eyes.

Luna could almost pretend she hadn't seen it.

"We'll have to call for another dress to be made. This one was very beautiful, but I am sure the seamstresses can do better."

The dresses were always beautiful, and the dresses always needed to be burned.

Things were always painful after Ritual days, and try as she might Luna had yet to figure out a way to keep the black blood from seeping out of her pores. Even the necklace around her throat ripped at the skin, though she refused to take it off. The raw red abrasions at the base of her neck could be hidden with her hair in just the perfect delicate knot. No one needed to see, no need needed to know.

She knew better than to take the necklace off.

Lunafreya hissed as the washcloth traced its way across her skin, the fire of daemon blood making a sizzling sound as it made a pathway across her skin. The first time it had happened, the day she had forged her first Covenant, Luna had tried to wash herself in the tub only to find that the black would stain even the most perfect of porcelain. It was better to burn the remains than lie trembling in a lake of death.

"Would you like some tea, My Lady?" Maria asked as she ran a soft, wet towel across Luna's face. She was gentle in the way she let her aged skin whisper across her temples, rubbing at the fine hairs.

"Please."

Maria handed her a nightgown to clothe herself in as she left to gather the tea, and with more struggle than she dared to admit, Luna lifted herself up to slip the gown over her head.

Very few people were allowed to be in Luna's presence after Ritual days; she knew that there would be requirements and Callings for her to be in public, and it was her duty to do so with a smile on her face and an air of dignified resolve. But the people knew just as well as the castle staff did that the former Princess of Tenebrae did not leave her rooms after her Ritual. Some believed it to be because Lady Lunafreya would sit in the solace of the Gods, listen to them whisper their blessings and she would return with knowledge of what would come.

The truth was that Luna would lay in bed with her arms wrapped around herself, praying with every aching breath for death to come. When it didn't (and she knew it wouldn't) she would brace herself in her sheets and force herself to vomit up the inky black tar of the Scourge until her throat was raw and her tears had dried.

She couldn't go into public, she couldn't show just how weak her body was. She knew what would happen if Niflheim could see her, if they could have that control over her.

It was why the bird, that bloody bird, made Luna scramble from her bed. She could see it staring at her, its beady little eyes tracing her every movement. There was something so unsettling about the gold in its eyes, in the perfectly circular nest, in the way it moved and _stared_.

It **_stared_**.

The bottoms of her feet stung as the slapped against the surface as she made her way to the window sill. The bird made a soft chirp as she leaned against the railing, letting her hands rest out to gently rub against the soft down at the bird's neck. The pale white feathers cast a glow around it, making Luna remember the doves of her childhood, the ones that her mother had raised once upon a time. It felt warm under her fingers, but the stillness below her fingertips...

"Little bird," Luna whispered as she let her nail gently rub against the feathers. "We are both trapped within our gilded cages."

She was gentle in picking the bird up, the docile little thing only twisting its head to the side to look at her even more. It didn't even flap its wings in response.

"And yet..." Luna wondered out loud as she wrapped her fingers around the bird's body, letting the other touch at its head, "only one shall escape."

Luna closed her eyes as she covered the bird's head with her hand and snapped its neck, the bones sounding like tinkling glass.

She felt the oozing of blood and when she finally opened her eyes she stared out at the night sky before hesitantly looking down.

Her breath caught in her throat as she gently rested the bird's body back into the nest.

Its blood was black.

She was right.

Her words were carrying.

Lunafreya reached up to grab at her pendant, choking on her sobs as her knees gave out from under her.

What did they want? What more did they expect of her?

What more could they take?

* * *

It was not Maria, nor Ravus, who found her on the floor. Instead it had been the soft whine and patter of Umbra who was quick in his movements to snuggle up against Luna's side. The notebook she shared with Noctis was set inside the small satchel at the dog's side and Luna could already imagine what Noctis had written to her, the little ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. After a quick kiss and series of pats to the dog's ears, Luna unclipped the satchel and reached in for the notebook.

Perhaps it was silly of her, but the notebook had become a lifeline to the world outside of her duties and obligations. It was such a childish thing, a form of escapism that tasted like bitter fruit at the back of her throat when she thought too much upon it, but it was something that she knew would always make her smile through the tears. Their lives... their lives had never been fair, they had never been given the chance to grow. And though she knew their fate—Luna breathed through her nose and out her mouth to calm her shaking hands— it was a moment of freedom.

Little Noctis... she dreamed of him, sometimes. Their time together was so short, the memory of his shattered spine and broken spirit had left Noctis so small and sad in her memories. She could still remember the way he had reached out for her through the smoke-stained air, trying to grab for her hand as his father had run. The desperation across his cheeks, the pain that washed over him... The way he had cried for her, and how her back had straightened and the sounds of the beating of the Magiteck feet across the blood-soaked ground had dulled from a roar to a squelch.

But it was their duty, their promise to the Gods above as Oracle and King of Kings, and no matter the way it made her feel Lunafreya had long before accepted her fate. She had accepted the signs of the stars, that fate foretold to her as a whisper in a childhood dream as Gentiana cradled her to sleep.

It was the same way her mother had held her, told her what would come to pass was written in the Stars.

And little Noctis...

Luna bit down on her lip until she tasted the tang of blood.

She knew it was wrong, that it was unfair. She knew that he had lived in the shadow of his father's fading health and the loneliness that had come from the weight of his crown. She knew that he would die for them all, and she would help to lift the knife to his throat—

And yet... it brought her peace to see the photos that Noctis taped to the book, the soft conversations that came through little notes and short stories about his life as a normal boy.

Luna was thankful to Regis for that. He had tried to give some semblance of a life before the sun began to fade and Lunafreya was no long able to fight off the Scourge. Before Noctis had to give himself completely to complete the Prophecy.

Something in Luna's mind whispered to her, whispered against her, but she quieted it. This had always been the Gods' Will, and she their Oracle. This was their duty to the People of Eos, to the Gods...

Luna closed her eyes and rested the book against her forehead before slowly thumbing it open to the last page. However, there were no photos or stickers—only a single page written with Noctis's sloppy scrawl that had become such a comfort in her time alone.

Luna slammed the book closed after reading the first sentence, her heart beating into her throat.

This couldn't be possible.

Her heart hammered inside her chest, the thumping making her entire body shudder, and Lunafreya looked up to meet Umbra's deep orange gaze. The way he looked at her made the sinking in Luna's stomach go deeper; she knew it was not a joke, because Noctis would never joke of something like that.

Hands shaking, Luna slowly opened the book back up and stared down at the page, running the pads of her fingers over the indents in the paper from where Noctis had pressed his pen down too hard. The other side was signed with dings and scratches. Luna found her fingernails running against them, trying to remember what it felt like to be smooth and whole.

She read through the letter four times, her mind skimming over words until she forced herself to read through it from the beginning, slower and slower until the words began to make sense.

Even though the words most certainly did not make sense. Nothing made sense.

Luna pulled Umbra's head into her lap as she stared at the letter, needing something to cling to. The dog whimpered against her leg as Luna scratched his ear, reading from the beginning again.

They... they were coming for her.

No. They were sending someone _for_ her.

The knot inside of Luna's stomach twisted as she stared at Noctis's words. Over the years she had accepted her place, accepted that she would never escape from Niflheim. She had planned and plotted her runaway as a child, knowing that it was nothing but a fantasy of a little bird banging against her cage. She would never leave Tenebrae, never leave her brother to the monsters that had killed their mother, stole their kingdom, and burned their heritage to the ground. She would never escape from her duties that she wore like the necklace around her throat.

But she also knew with perfect clarity that if she ran, if she dared to defy Emperor Iedolas, they would send _him_ after her. Even if he had been forbidden, even after what had happened as a child...

Luna trembled and nearly dropped the book as she forced her hand to her mouth, pressing her knuckles between her lips. She bit down, using the pain to remind her that it was the present, that he was not there... even though she could almost feel him hanging about her like an omnipresent monster. If she spoke his name, if she thought of him… he would appear.

Always haunting her…

It was not enough that he had taken her mother, had broken her brother, had used her—

No.

Luna felt the sharp sting as her tooth broke flesh of her hand and she hissed, the slight hairs on the back of her knuckles rubbing against her lips.

It took a moment for Luna to pull herself back, the heavy weight of the notebook bringing her from the brink.

The bird made sense, now. If they had any inkling of what had been planned, if the Empire knew that King Regis was preparing to send a Kingsglaive for her... of course they would watch her, of course they would want to find out anything she knew. They had always kept eyes on her, though their accuracy had been faulty on more than one occasion.

Even though it had been years since the invasion of Tenebrae, Luna knew that most of the staff would have stayed loyal to her. Maria would have done anything to protect her, as would have the old staff who had sworn themselves to a crown of Sylleblossoms and not the Sword of Niflheim. Had she tried, had she wanted to, she knew that they would have gladly accepted whatever punishment the Empire gave to let her escape.

It was one of the reasons she had never dared to run. She knew how much blood her hands would one day hold—a little boy with blue eyes and a shy, trusting smile—and she just... the thought of their battered bodies tied up in chains, toes dragging against the ground as the nooses tightened, the birds of prey gorging themselves upon fresh meat... it was too much.

She had seen enough of it in those first few months after her mother's death, the bodies hung from the chandeliers in the Great Hall as warning for those who would dare disobey. Every night, taking her supper next to the rotting corpses of those who had been unwilling to present their necks to Iedolas and _him_.

She could remember the way his armor creaked as he pointed with his sword to her mother's corpse. The smell... she could never forget the smell.

"And they too shall hang if you forget your place."

It had been less his words and more the garbled sound of his breath through the helmet and the way his voice sounded so inhuman, like daemons chewing glass. How was it possible for a man to be inside that cold shell? She would have assumed him Magitek if not for the fact she was well-acquainted with the skin of his hands and—

Luna shuddered again, forcing the memory from her mind.

She could not dwell upon it. The incidents... the incidents had been blessedly short-lived and it was best for her not to allow herself to fall into the messy trap that she knew she had set within her own mind, a maze of memories and nightmares that she could not walk down by herself. She knew the way her mind worked, how she would fall back into those moments and force herself to go through them again and again, analyzing every moment. Where had it gone wrong? Why had it happened? Why had the Gods allowed it?

She had been lucky that Chancellor Izunia had stopped it from going any further.

Luna could have laughed at the irony. Since she was a little girl, Gentiana had told her stories of the Once Good King, the First King of Kings... the Failure King. The Accursed.

The Usurper.

The man was a monster, that much Lunafreya knew. From the scant amount of information she had learned through listening through doors and peeling away the layers to every word her brother said, Luna had learned of just some of what Ardyn Izunia was. He was the one who had pulled the strings behind some of Niflheim's desires, using long-lost technology from Solheim to make the Empire's hopes and dreams come true. He was the one who played the Emperor like a marionette, his feet tapping across the ground in a macabre dance that amused no one but himself.

And even further, down into the rabbit-hole that Lunafreya could only half-understand, there was something lurking below the surface. He was more than just a simple puppet master pulling at the strings; she tried to understand the motivation, to know _why_.

Gentiana would tell her that he had been a good king, a just king, a loyal king who had lost his way. The madness of the Daemons had eaten through his mind and shattered his psyche.

Yet there was something more there, a series of questions that Luna wanted to know the answer to desperately and at the same moment knew she never wanted to ask. The answer... she did not want to hear them. Gentiana had been insistent on that. It was to protect her, to give her the semblance of her innocence spared.

Luna had always wondered that if Gentiana had wanted to protect her innocence, why had she not protected Luna herself from _him_ , from the man behind the helmet who had used his own vindictive anger to torment a child.

Why had it been the Usurper who had shown her the shred of human kindness?

 _Do not think such things._ It was not fair to Gentiana, Luna reminded herself as she shook her head. It was her duty to aid the Oracle, to act as a messenger between the Gods and the line of Oracles and Kings. It was not her duty to protect the Oracle, for all acts of God and Man were preordained. It was Willed by the Gods, and no matter Gentiana's own desires, she could not protect Lunafreya from the actions of man.

And Shiva, the Covenant that the God had sworn while wearing Gentiana's face...

Much like the Kings of Lucis, the line of the Oracle was both blessed and cursed. The price of power was a handsome debt that Luna knew was to be paid in blood and pain. Those of her kind, given the power to commune with the Gods, did not live happily. Her suffering would give life to her people and would usher in the end of the Starscourge.

The Gods had entrusted that to her, and it was always her duty to see it completed. The pain, the black ozone and death oozing from her pores... it was a price. And it was a price she would willingly pay, as long as she knew that her sacrifice would mean something.

And yet the little note nestled in her notebook, a promise of a Kingsglaive to escort her to Insomnia...

Lunafreya wanted to be happy, to feel joy in the idea of freedom after all time she had spent huddled within her rooms, waiting for the time when she would be able to enact her destiny... and yet...

Lunafreya knew that if she went, if she ran...

General Glauca would follow.

What were her choices? Could she wait for the Kingsglaive to collect her? Could she leave in the dead of night to make her way toward the Astrals to begin calling for their Covenants? Could she stay inside her room, wrapped in her blankets and hope that the Gods would give her more time?

When Maria returned with the tea, she took it with the steadiness of years of training.

Ever the graceful princess.

And Luna reached up to grab the pendant around her throat, the stone that sat in the indent of the moon warmer than it should have been against her skin.

She needed... What she needed…

What she needed was time.

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

When the dawn rose, Lunafreya collected herself from her bed and made her way to her wardrobe. She was as quick as she could be in her movements, though the pain around her stomach had her doubled over after lifting her hands up to pull down the the small suitcase she had tucked away. There would only be enough room for a few light summer dresses and scant belonging, but it would have to do.

Luna quickly looked through her belongings, gathering a few mementos she knew better than to leave: The small crown of frozen Sylleblossoms her mother had been married with, her father's wedding band, the small bear her brother had given her as a child. It wasn't much but they were hers. If she could not return to Tenebrae at least these small moments, relics of a time long gone by, would remain. If all she had were the shattered pieces of a life she would cling to those small treasures like they were the only things left.

She held the bear to her face, taking in a breath. The fur tickled against her nose.

But there was no time to dawdle, though Luna knew that there was no way that King Regis's Glaive would be around yet. He still had to be several days out.

Luna looked down the the bear, caressing the soft material between her fingers. Could she do it? Could she put all the pieces of herself into a little bag that Noctis had told her not to bother with? Could she leave those who had taken care of her, who had protected her, who had loved her through the years of horrors?

Luna closed her eyes and all she could see were the chandeliers and the macabre baubles Glauca had used to decorate it. Those who stayed, like Maria... there was a chance he would punish them. Yet if she disappeared, if she simply woke in the morning of her day of rest and ran, then no one would know. No one would be able to follow her.

But it was a dream of a child, just as it had been when she was a little girl waiting for someone to save her, someone to hold her hand in the darkness.

Luna knew that the Gods stood on her side, that she was their Oracle and their connection to the people of Eos. But not even the Gods had stood against _him_ , and Lunafreya was not willing to stay to see what would happen. If Noctis was right, if there was a secret meeting between the King and Ardyn Izunia, someone would be coming for her soon enough. And that was so much worse because if they found out the plot to whisk her away it would only put Noctis in more danger.

She remembered that moment when she let go of King Regis's hand all those years ago. It had been to keep the Prince safe. She needed Noctis to be safe, to make it to when he could cure the Starscourge and end the Accursed. She also remembered the way General Glauca stared at her through his metal helmet, how his hot breath sprayed against her cheek, how he told her what he would do and how he had kept those promises.

Luna clutched at her side and wiped at her brow for a moment until she felt something behind her, a presence that she would have known anywhere.

"Gentiana," Luna whispered.

"Oracle, it is best if you rested after your arduous day. Your work has put great stress upon you and you must not task yourself more than necessary."

"Gentiana," Luna repeated. She turned to the Messenger. "There is something we must speak of. It is important. I—I do not know what to do."

Gentiana did not open her eyes, instead only lifting her head up enough for Luna to see the black rims of her eyelashes. "How may I be of service to you, Oracle?"

Luna sat down on the edge of the bed, letting the toy Ravus had given her fall into the bag.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"I received word from Noctis. Niflheim has contacted Lucis with an agreement—a surrender." When Gentiana said nothing, Luna continued. "Noctis believes that this may be a ploy. The King has sent one of his men to collect me. He should be here in a few days time."

"And yet you pack now?"

Luna looked down at her hands. "I... I do not think it wise to go to Insomnia. The Calling of the Gods has been loud; I think it may be best to begin my journey to forge the Covenants."

Gentiana said nothing for a moment and Luna could only listen to her heart beating in her throat.

"My Lady, you must follow your Calling. If the Gods tell you that it is time to head forward to your destiny, then you mustn't forsake it."

Luna smiled ever so slightly. Of course Gentiana was correct; Gentiana was always right. She knew just the words to say to set Luna's heart at ease. "Do you think that the Gods will bless me?"

"You know they shall."

"Then... Do you know if they will bless Noctis?"

Gentiana rested her hand against Luna's arm, a slight cold cresting from her fingertips. "The Oracle worries for little reason. The Gods have spoken of the King of the Stone and have imparted their wisdom to the Oracle. He will bring our world salvation. Just as you shall, my Lady."

"I am not your Lady, Gentiana. It is you who are my Lady."

Luna leaned into the comforting touch of her longtime friend and mentor. The cold nipped at her skin, but it was something that Luna had long ago become accustomed to with Gentiana. She was a Messenger of Shiva's, used as the Goddess's vessel to the mortal realm. Cold hands and the the feeling of ice on her tongue was something that Luna could remember all throughout her childhood. It was just as much of a comfort as her mother's crown, her father's ring, or even Ravus's bear.

"You are too kind. You know my purpose, as I know yours."

"Then tell me, Gentiana. What should I do? Should I stay and wait for King Regis's Glaive, or should I leave now? I... I don't know what the Gods want me to do."

"The Gods want you to follow your Calling, which means following the light."

Luna looked out the window and into the soft morning blues. "Follow the light?"

"Yes, my Lady. To fulfill the Prophecy, to bring the Dawn. You must follow the light that the Gods have laid before you. It is a path you must accept, wherever it may go."

"But... what if it means leaving here?"

"You were never meant to stay here, my Lady. The Oracle was never meant to be bound in chains."

Luna leaned further into Gentiana's cold hand. "I... I feel so weak. My body aches and my blood turns. It hurts to breathe, Gentiana. I just—I wish things were different."

"The Gods chose you, your blood, because it knew that you would be strong. And you must be strong, for without an Oracle there will be no future."

Luna understood this, understood it better than Gentiana may have known. Or perhaps she did know, but Luna could only see herself as a weak and frightened child. Noctis's death, her death—she had accepted them as inevitable long ago. The Gods had promised that with their deaths there would be peace, and that was what kept Luna strong. But the pain, the all-consuming pain and the fear that all her pain, all of her suffering, would be for naught... that was what truly left Luna trembling.

"What if they hurt you? Or Ravus? Or Maria?"

"They shan't."

"But what if _he_ does?"

"You must go forward, Oracle. That is your duty. You cannot worry about the one if you wish to save all."

Of course Gentiana was right; one life for an entire planet was selfish. She knew that, knew that when she was still a small girl learning from the Gods who whispered in her ear that one day she would bring the King of Kings to them. That was, of course, if she managed to make it through the Covenants long enough to say goodbye.

Yet when she thought the same way for her brother or the others, she felt bile on the back of her tongue.

"You must make the journey on your own, Lady Lunafreya. I would go with you if I could, but the Gods require that you embark upon your final journey without me. You must be strong, to use the powers that I have taught you. Only then will Eos know peace."

Luna sniffled back a cry. "Alone... on the road."

"Yes, my Lady. On your own. You must walk tall, prove yourself to the Gods... prove yourself _to_ yourself."

"I understand."

"There is one other thing you must do before you leave, my Lady," Gentiana said as she withdrew her hand from Lunafreya. "There is someone waiting for you in the Throne Room. He has news from Insomnia; even if know know what words he speaks of, you must listen to him."

Luna let out her her breath in a gust of air. "Oh."

"He will wait until you are presentable."

Gentiana stood from the bed and glided across the floors of the bedroom toward the doors. "It is best not to keep the Chancellor waiting for long."

When the door clicked closed, Luna allowed herself to draw in a shuddering breath. It had been foolish to assume that the Chancellor would not come to her to tell her of the wedding to Noctis, the one he had concocted and orchestrated, though only the Heavens knew why. No doubt that snake Iedolas wanted the King of Lucis and the Oracle under his thumb; they were perfect pawns in his game of chess.

Luna touched the pendant at her neck, the gift she had been given so long ago by the Chancellor. During the days after he had found her curled up in the library, torn clothing and bruised skin standing stark against the white marble, he had gifted the pendant to her. She had allowed him to lay it against her neck and clasp it, wincing when his finger brushed against her skin.

He hadn't hurt her, yet she could never forget how his skin felt on hers, how she was barely able to resist the urge to vomit when she felt the sliminess of the daemons inside of him reach out for her. She was too young than to fight them, too young to do anything but stare into his amber eyes and pretend like she could not see the black inky tar spilling from his mouth across his curdled-milk skin. It was the worst thing she had ever felt—no. The second worst thing.

Glauca had a special ranking reserved just for him.

Luna rose to her feet after a few more moments of rest. She ignored the constant ache and instead made herself as presentable as possible, pulling out a gown that she felt would hide her well enough within the folds of cotton. She didn't bother to put up her hair. The energy was not worth the reward, and it would not have been the first time the Chancellor saw her with her hair down. It almost seemed to unnerve him, if Luna was right about the way he would avoid looking at her for too long when she would let her blonde hair billow about her shoulders like a shield. He would never look for long, and that suited Luna just fine.

She made her way down the stairs and into the Throne Room. Keeping her eyes on the long expanse of white windows to the eastern side, Lunafreya was able to see the sun peeking through the foliage, shimmering like emeralds in the distance.

"My dear, sweet Princess. It has been far too long."

At least the Accursed didn't sit himself in her mother's throne. At least he had the compunction to only stand before it, inspecting it. She wondered if he thought about the throne he once sat upon and how different it was to the one of Tenebrae.

"Chancellor Izunia. I am not a princess any longer."

"Oh, I know. And how many times have I told you to simply call me Ardyn?"

"Many times, Chancellor Izunia."

Luna looked to the man and resisted the urge to cover herself up from head to toe in her arms or to rush off back to her rooms to the comfort of her bed. Yet she knew now, now that she had spoken to Gentiana on what she would need to do, that she would not be staying for long. If she were lucky and the Gods gave her just a shred of normalcy, this would be the last time she ever had to be close to Ardyn Izunia.

Just looking at him made her sick to her stomach. There were times where the daemon mask would fall and for the briefest second of time he would look like another mortal man, any mortal man, who had been taken by greed and anger and hatred. He could have been handsome if not for everything evil inside of him.

Luna found herself, more than once, thinking of the man before her. Gentiana had told her only little bits and pieces of the history of the man called the Failure King. She wondered if she asked him, would Ardyn tell her?

Doubtful. No matter how kind his words played off, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was no fool. She could see it inside him just like she could see the daemons across his face. There was something inside him that deep, deep down absolutely _loathed_ her.

"Do you find my presence so unappealing, Lady Lunafreya, that you cannot stand to look at my face?"

He knew she could see his daemons and still, in the sweet morning light and surrounded by the servers and maids bustling through the Throne Room, Luna said nothing.

"I was told you wished to see me, Chancellor. How may I be of service?"

A small smile pulled at his lip as he motioned toward the door that would lead them to the gardens. "A lovely day for a short stroll, do you not agree?"

Luna certainly did not agree, but allowed herself to follow the man and his black cloak from the Throne Room to the gardens.

"The Sylleblossoms are quite lovely in this season."

"Yes."

"Your mother so loved them."

"She did."

Luna listened to the clinking of his boots across the stone pathway, her own feet barely making a sound as she followed him. There was enough room for her to stand side to side with him, but she chose to follow behind instead. More than once she felt the twitch in her hand as she wished for her Trident to appear, yet she refused to open her palms to call forth the weapon. She knew he would strike her dead the moment she tried. Then who would help usher in the dawn? Who would lead Noctis on his journey?

"Your mother also loved you. The love a mother has for a child is powerful and pure. The only thing I know that is as strong is a father's love for his child."

"I was not aware that you were a father."

"A long time ago, Lady Lunafreya. And for a very short while. A husband, too."

A pain bit into Luna's throat as the necklace around her throat burned. "My condolences. The loss of a wife and child is a tragedy that none should suffer through." Lunafreya could not quite believe his words; Gentiana had only ever spoken of him as the Once Good King, and that his line had ended two thousand years ago.

Yet any pity she could have had for the man was long ago gone; what stood before her now, slowing his steps and reaching out to take a Sylleblossom from her mother's treasured garden, was not worth her energy.

"It matters not, now. The past is the past, wouldn't you say?"

Luna looked to him quizzically when he turned to face her. "I do not understand."

A sneer pulled at his mouth, but he quickly turned his face away from her. "Don't worry your pretty little head, my dear princess. The ramblings of a madman, as they would say."

A snap reverberated through the garden and he turned his back to Luna.

"May I ask again, Chancellor: How may I be of service?"

She studied his back, the way he put more pressure on his right leg to compensate for his left. Idly, Lunafreya wondered what had happened in his two thousand years to hurt him so. Had it happened before his transformation into the Accursed? Or had it been something after?

Ardyn shook his head. "Just a moment." She heard the flick of something—a knife handle opening— and flinched.

His shoulders shook and Luna could almost see that cold, daemon smile pull his lips over his teeth in a cackle. He made no sound, though his head quivered. His reddened brown hair reminded Lunafreya of blood under her nails.

"Emperor Aldercapt has sent word that you should prepare yourself for a permanent relocation within the fortnight."

Luna steeled herself. "To where?"

Ardyn continued, as though he had not heard her question. "Your belongings shall be packed and transported. He believes it best for you to stay within Gralea afterward. This is a concession that will be ironed out in the coming days. I am certain you will enjoy Gralea. There are so many souls needing of your assistance."

Gralea... the Scourge there was almost too much for Lunafreya to bear thinking of. The one time she had visited when she was twenty had been burned into her memory; she bled black for weeks.

"It is my duty to help the people of Eos. I am but a vessel to the Gods and—"

"' _You say your true Calling is to protect the people of Eos._ '"

Lunafreya could hear the sneer in his words; she did not need to see his face twisted and tainted.

"Yes. That is my Calling."

He laughed then, though it was not an unkind laugh, though it twisted in her gut like a dagger. It was hollow. "My dear, you can speak of your Calling to the Gods and to the people, but there is no reason to speak of it to me."

He turned to her then, and his face was that of a man. Just a human man.

"You and I both know that your Calling has nothing to do with protecting the children of Eos. You can lie to yourself, my dear, sweet Princess, but do not lie to me."

Lunafreya did not flinch when he pressed the crown of Sylleblossoms to her head. She could feel his fingers against her scalp, sliding down to her neck.

"Your future husband will meet you in Gralea, where you will find that your Calling leads you to something quite different."

Lunafreya looked up into his eyes. They were cold, like chunks of amber frozen away under the ground.

"Do you not wish to know who your husband-to-be is?"

"I believe I already know."

Ardyn smiled, his mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth making it impossible to look away. "Ah, yes. Young love. Children are so innocent. Naive, some would say. Though, I have heard quite a bit of the scandalous gossip about your future king. Perhaps he isn't quite so innocent, after all."

"Neither am I."

Ardyn's face soured. "Hardly the truth, my dear. You are by far more innocent than he shall ever be. A pitiable lamb, though he will have to do."

Luna schooled her face, though inside she was screaming. Who was he to say who was pure? Who was he to dare complain about Noctis—Noctis, who had written her of his love, who had sent his life to her in small photos and memories tucked into parchment? Noctis, who would only be upon Eos for a gasp of life?

And who was she to deny him that? They would both die in the service of the Gods. If she could give him just a moment of normalcy, a moment of freedom, then who was she to deny him that? Who was anyone to deny him that?

"I disagree."

"Of that I am not surprised." Ardyn looked at her again for one moment, his hands ever so gently pressing against her throat. She wondered if he was busy thinking about snapping her neck. It would be so easy, just like the bird the night before.

"You look like her."

Luna blinked. "My mother?"

Ardyn let go of her.

"No."

* * *

For being a Princess who was supposed to be locked away in a tower, it had become clear by the third day of trekking through Tenebrae that Princess Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was better at escaping than anyone had given her credit for.

It wasn't as though getting to Tenebrae had been much of a difficulty, especially considering the help that the King and his old retinue had given him through Lucis, past Altissia, and deep into the heart of Tenebraen wildlife. It wasn't even the trees that seemed to speak to one another through the chill of an ice storm that seemed constantly waiting on the winds blowing from the west.

He had managed all of that just fine. The issue was that when he got to the place where Noctis had promised there would be a waiting princess, there was nothing but silence. Silence and bugs. A lot of bugs.

Nyx hit his watch again, staring down at the coordinates. The numbers dazzled back the same ones on the paper written in a scrawl from a shaking man's hand—Nyx tried not to think too hard on the thought of the King's hand quaking, the way he looked when he had sent Nyx forward to get a lady from enemy territory.

Swatting away some of the hungry mosquitoes, Nyx looked back at the tree, looking for any sign of struggle. Perhaps the Niflheim troops had managed to find the woman and had already ushered her back to Tenebrae Castle? It was the most likely reason for the woman not showing up, at least to Nyx. The King's letters had been absolutely sure that Princess Lunafreya would come.

Yet here he was, waiting like a common schmuck, and there she wasn't.

Nyx rested his hands back at his waist and looked around the forest, letting his hands rest near his pockets. He allowed himself to lean back on the beat-up tan jeep, looking from side to side through the green foliage. He didn't attempt to hide within the wildlife; he knew better by now that trying to hide was more likely to get him caught. If anyone asked anything, just saying he was a hunter had worked wonders already.

Yeah, he was a hunter. A hunter for a Princess that was taking her sweet damn time getting there. A Princess that wasn't going to show, even though Nyx couldn't even begin to fathom why. Maybe the Prince and King Regis had been wrong; maybe she didn't want to be free. Maybe she was happy with her chains. Or maybe she didn't like Prince Noctis half as much as they thought she did. With all of the drama the Prince brought with him (and now, after having seen him interact with that crazy Scientia guy) he couldn't blame her if she booked it.

Nyx looked back down at the coordinates and then clicked the small red button on the right side, staring down at the clock. The small screen flashed 13:52.

She was two hours late.

Fuck.

What to do, what to do...

There really weren't a lot of options open. Send King Regis a message, sure. But other than that, the only thing he could do was send off white smoke into the air and hope that it would do something...

But if a princess didn't want to be found, Nyx was going to have a bitch of a time searching for her.

Nyx wished for the simplicity of his earpiece and a wireless connection to Insomnia, but being out so far from the city with no way to cover his radio signals, the only thing he would be able to do is wait for word.

Shit.

Stay? Or go?

Only a few more hours. Then he would have to head into the city.

Nyx climbed back into the car and popped the seat back, thankful to lock out the bugs from the car. He even took a certain type of relief from squishing one errant little shit on the steering wheel. Served it right.

After a few minutes of rest, Nyx adjusted himself against the leather seat, unable to find a position that didn't make his neck hurt. Twisting for a little longer, he finally gave up and slammed himself back

Maybe music would be able to help him relax. He turned on the car, though only enough to get the battery going. The sweet chill and rattle of the air conditioner gave him a temporary moment of joy and the radio cut in—

 _"—Lady Lunafreya was last seen traveling through Sylva Square, on her way toward the Oracle Temple in the northwestern Province of the city. Sources say that she disappeared without a trace. Some believe it to be a kidnapping attempt by the Lucis Kingdom, who have grown restless in the past months as fighting continues to the east. Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret has been called back from his position in the Western city of Gralea to begin search and rescue plans for his sister—"_

"Fuck."

Nyx pulled the car seat forward, turned on the car ignition and slid into gear. The sound of the radio kept up the stream of information.

 _"—General Glauca of Niflheim has announced there to be a mandatory curfew, implemented at 17:00, until Lady Lunafreya is found. Please be aware that all homes, shops, and buildings will be inspected. Those who have kidnapped the Oracle will be brought to swift justice—"_

Nyx snorted as he hit the gas. Even the stupidest guy on the block understood what that meant.

She had run. Anyone caught aiding and abetting Princess Lunafreya would find their head chopped off.

Damn it.

A sudden pain laced up behind Nyx's ear and he slapped his hand across his skin, feeling the squish of another mosquito.

Yeah. This definitely wasn't his day.

* * *

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